


Things Left Unsaid

by HARP0



Category: Kyou Kara Maou
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-28 21:18:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HARP0/pseuds/HARP0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Wolfram tries to save Yuuri, his life is turned upside down. And things will never be the same again. Wolfram X Yuuri</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

.  
Author's note:  
This story is the result of a challenge that a good friend gave to me. So, I'll just call this one an "experiment." As usual, the following story is just for fun and no profit. Please take none of this seriously—

 

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Chapter 1  
.  
.  
.  
"All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on."  
~ Henry Ellis  
.  
.  
.  
"Oi! I said, 'no,' you wimp! What are you thinking of?!" Wolfram shouted, urging his horse forward with as much speed as the animal was capable of.

The black blurr that was Shibuya Yuuri had just taken off in the direction of a woman's scream. How Wolfram hated himself, now, for humoring his fiancé into letting him visit the village of Whitmore-Smythe along the eastern borderlands.

Two of Wolfram's men, wearing the blue uniforms of his elite guard, followed closely behind. The second man shouted over his shoulder at the new recruit, "Go tell Lord Weller where we're going!"

The young fire wielder, new to the guard, nodded his head enthusiastically and made note of the animal trail that they were riding along. He'd do his best to bring help immediately.  
________________________________________

 

Yuuri stopped abruptly when the frail body of a woman fell across the trail a few meters in front of him. From the way her corpse met the ground, it was only too clear that she was beyond help.

Yuuri, furious, glared at the group blocking his path. "How could you?!" he demanded, tightly holding onto the reins. This was inexcusable. He looked again at the woman. She appeared to be a peasant with bleached blond hair mostly tucked into a white, cotton cap with straps that dangled down both sides of her ears. Her simple dress was brown and long sleeved. She wore only one shoe and her palms were slashed from something sharp driven into them. The stab wound deep in the back no longer bled.  
"How could you?!" Yuuri demanded again.

Yes, these were the thugs who were harassing the village and killing women for their pleasure—off and on—for the past month.

A lasso with stone charms woven into the strands found its way around Yuuri's shoulders and the rope pulled tightly, pinning his arms at his sides. At the other end was an extremely tall, ape-like human with a wide, flat nose and dark brown hair that was dull and lifeless.

"Where's the woman?" he demanded.

"Woman? W-What woman?!" Yuuri shouted back while struggling to get the ropes off. He didn't see any woman other than the dead one before him.

"You know! The woman wearing the blue uniform and short blond hair on the white horse outside the hotel," a human with rat-like features and a thread-bare light green shirt called back.

"Woman?" Yuuri whispered to himself. Only when he heard the sound of a horse thundering on the path behind him did he realize it. "Oh, no…Wolfram!" Onyx eyes widened impossibly and he stared at the ape leader again. "You're talking about…Wolfram, right?"

"YUURI!" Wolfram bellowed. He could see a group of eight dangerous-looking humans blocking the path. Rough men who were unwashed and unshaven. His soldier's instincts were telling him that rescuing the double black would be the priority and that no matter how it looked to the outside world, (honor could certainly wait) he would do what was necessary to get his fiancé back unscathed.

"That's her! That's the one!" the rat man said to his cohorts, a finger pointing, and Yuuri's heart froze at it.

The double black shook his head "no" and called to Wolfram, "Get out of here, Wolfram! It's too dangerous! Go!"

Even from a distance and over the sound of hooves hitting dirt, Yuuri could make out the distinct "W-I-M-P!" aimed at him.

Two men charged forward on horses tied up on the other side of a large tree near a cave entrance. "Go get the Mazoku," the ape ordered and the two skinny followers grunted in agreement, each armed with a lasso.

The first horseman met up with Wolfram, swinging his rope while the second went around them and chose a different target—the first of Wolfram's men.

Yuuri saw a third man jump for his horse and streak in Wolfram's direction. He avoided the blond Mazoku in favor of the second of Wolfram's men.

Wolfram wasn't in any mood to be toyed with by a knuckle-dragging human with a silly rope. He knew how Yuuri saw things but, he was not going to let this man off so easily. As the lasso swung menacingly, Wolfram simply made a fireball in his hand. He was about to throw it when the lasso came down upon his shoulders and the flame died immediately.  
"Damn!" Wolfram cursed, glancing at the rope with esoteric charms strung through the strands. The small rocks that pressed against his arms burned and he felt his body sag in the saddle.

The human jumped down from his horse and walked over to Wolfram, taking the reigns easily from stiff, white-knuckled fingers. "Come on…pretty, pretty," he chortled as he returned to his horse. "We're having a party and it won't be a celebration without you."

Wolfram gritted his teeth at the thought of what these men had in mind. The horse clomped easily enough behind the man and Wolfram's heart grew heavy with each step that neared him to Yuuri.

"Wolf!" the double black called.

Wolfram hung his head a little. This was mortifying. He glanced behind him only to see that his two subordinates were doing much worse and succumbing to the stones far more easily than he was. The blond glanced at Yuuri again. He didn't seem to feel the effects. Wolfram wasn't sure if that was a blessing or not.

"This one's not like her," the ape-like man said with distain, kicking dirt over the body of the woman. "From a distance, she could have been a Mazoku." Then, he turned to Wolfram. "But, we know for certain you are, my pet. Thanks for showing us fire!" And with a deep, rumbling chuckle, he turned away.

________________________________________

 

Sitting cross-legged, the four of them were lined up against the far wall of the cave. Yuuri, Wolfram, Wilks, and Colins were all tied with ropes looped around their throats that snaked down, over the shoulders, and bound their wrists from behind. Should they lower their tied wrists, the ropes would constrict and they would no longer be able to breathe.  
Add to the fact that the ropes were exactly like the ones that had caught them in the first place.

"Lean on me a little," Wolfram whispered to Yuuri. The double black had gagged twice when he grew tired and lowered his arms. With a slight sigh of relief, he leaned his left elbow against Wolfram's curved over back and took a break.

"What are they doing?" Yuuri asked, now watching the eight men putting on their green hoods and cloaks as they prepared a large, stone altar by applying some kind of white, gelatinous goop. To the double black, it looked like someone had mixed sugar, 7UP, and corn starch together. Then, he blinked when he saw the man in the corner with the black marble mortar and pestle pour some kind of white powered substance into the mix and then the two of them poured the second batch over the altar.

"I'm not sure," Wolfram whispered as he tried to scan the room without drawing attention to himself. It was a cave that had been carved with symbols that held no meaning for him. There were still uneven sections on the walls that held no adornment and was rough, as nature carved it out. But, the rest was outlined in a dark, blackish green paint and the scent of allspice filled the air, making Wolfram feel nauseous.

The rat-like one, being obvious even with a hood because his nose was exceedingly sharp, brought out a scroll and placed it on a small table in front of the altar. With reverence, the scroll was opened up—the top and bottom edges, irregular and tattered.

Wolfram noted that, now, presiding at the altar was the ape man. The rat was reviewing the scroll and the six other followers stood close to their prisoners. Collins and Wilks' slight whispers, which his sharp ears caught, were now coming across like hisses. Surely, they'd get caught for talking and be punished. Wolfram hoped that more help would come soon. Where was Conrad anyway? As painful as it was for Wolfram to admit, they needed Conrad to come and help them. And, for Yuuri's sake, his ego would accept the help.

"Get the woman," the ape man said. "It's time."

Wolfram's green eyes widened in curiosity. "Woman?" he parroted. Were some of the followers female? Or was there a woman in the cave and he just didn't notice?

"I don't think that…I mean…" Yuuri blathered until one of the men guarding them came up and kicked the double black in the shins as hard as he could.

Yuuri doubled over with a shout of pain and then he gagged from the ropes binding him.

"Stop it!" Wolfram shouted, getting to his feet and being surprised that they'd let him get away with it. Maybe, these humans saw him as intimidating. And they should! he thought angrily.

"Bring her over," the rat ordered and, suddenly, Wolfram found himself being roughly manhandled in the direction of the altar.

"Wait!" Wolfram shouted and Yuuri cringed at it. "Are you telling me that you think I'm…?" But the blond got no farther than that. The cloaked figure on Wolfram's right had doubled up his fist and punched as hard as he could. Blood poured from Wolfram's mouth, down the front of his uniform, and spotted on the cave floor. He blacked out for a second and had to be steadied on his feet.

The sound of snickering made Yuuri sick. He closed his eyes and shouted, "Stop!" But no one listened.

All eyes were fixed on Wolfram as he struggled to stay conscious.

Both hooded men nodded reverently as they were pointed to. One man had twin jars of hand thrown pottery painted green and filled to the brim with liquid. For convenience, they were already waiting by his feet. All he would need to do is reach down for the right one at the right time.

Other, much larger, jars were closer to the prisoners and their guards. But what they contained, only the cultists knew.

"According to the ancient text, we need to strip this one," he gestured to Wolfram with a depraved grin, "from the waist up. Bare breasts and all…" He motioned to the other handler. "You! Get the mucilage ready with the messianic elixir."

"Breasts?" the blond breathed to himself, blood drops still falling from his lower lip. Now, he understood. "WHAT?!" Wolfram bellowed as rough hands tore at his coat and untucking his white undershirt. "You think I'm a girl?!

He struggled—thrashing down and side to side while his captors roared with derisive laughter.

"Don't be modest!"

"…Over in a minute…"

"Show us the puppies with the pink noses!"

Then, the rope pulled—cutting off Wolfram's air and almost sending him to his knees.

A hand grabbed his forearm.

"Cut off the clothes!"

"Cut off the clothes!"

Wolfram struggled as sharp knives ripped, starting with the cuffs—shredding the material up to the shoulders.

Why not? The show would last longer.

Hands tore at the white shirt and popped off the buttons up to Wolfram's cat's eye navel.

A hissed chant. Hissed words, sharp and cruel followed. Freezing cold goo was smeared against Wolfram's left side, thick drips making way for his lower abdomen. He struggled again as something sharp was shoved into the flesh on his side and something small and round inserted. He recoiled, shrieking at them using every curse word he'd ever known.  
With a roar from the group, the last of the buttons were torn away and the white shirt was tossed to the floor.

The cultist with the jars gasped, "What? This really is a guy!"

In that moment, Wolfram's men both ran for the oversized jars, knocking them over in the direction of their guards. And they were quite pleased with the distraction until they realized that the containers were filled with acid and, not thinking, they wiped the burning red liquid onto their sleeves and trousers—suddenly hearing a sizzling sound as the material began to fall apart. Their hands felt like they were on fire and the sudden pain never ending.

Seeing his chance, Yuuri ran forward, determined to get Wolfram away from the two men holding him. He wormed his way in between the man with the jars and Wolfram.  
Yuuri felt large, callused hands on him. Both of Wolfram's guards must have joined in. The double black kicked repeatedly—knocking over one jar and breaking the second into gaping shards.

"You bastard!" the rat shrieked. "You have no idea what you've just done!" His face was turning blood red and he was white around the mouth. "All of this work! Our last chance! Over!"

Yuuri fell onto his butt and stared up, mouth open slightly—doing his best not to lower his wrists.

Taking that as his cue, the man who had the jars withdrew a dagger from his robes.

He's going to kill Wolfram! He's going to kill Wolfram! All because of me, he's…!

The cultist with the dagger smiled down at Yuuri. Killing the weak asshole in front of him would be easy and, maybe, they'd use his body—putting the black haired head on a spike to keep out anyone who would dare enter their sacred chamber in the mountain.

But he didn't get the chance.

Yuuri's hair grew longer. His shoulders grew wider and his body taller. A blue glow engulfed him, rising him up from the floor as the ropes fell away, dropping heavily to the ground.

"We shall be released," The Maou ordered as he raised a hand into the air. He pointed a finger at the red acid on the ground, purifying it, and turning the hateful liquid white. He made water dragons appear and they quickly made their way for the altar. The heavy, stone altar was easily lifted and thrown into the nearest wall. The Maou grinned as a gale blew around him as he ordered the dragons to wash the cave clean—making waves of liquid that drove the cultists out of the cave.  
Only the wall carvings and the painted ceiling remained the same.

Conrad appeared at the mouth of the cave for only a second before he ducked back—surprised by the rat and the ape-like man trying to escape.

He wouldn't let them, though. And, by the looks of it, he wouldn't have to raise a finger. He could make out two of Wolfram's men giving chase.

Good. The soldier turned back to the scene.

Conrad discovered that The Maou had Wolfram cradled in his arms, now. Bare-chested, he was being carried out of the cave bridal style—a manner that the fire Mazoku would have taken extreme dislike and embarrassment to had he been well. But, what was more unusual, or maybe "unsettling" as Conrad interpreted it, was the look of deep concern in the powerful spirit's eyes. Conrad had never noticed such an expression before on The Maou's face. And that worried him to no end as the seconds ticked.

Walking to a sunny patch of green grass near the horses, The Maou whispered soothing words to Wolfram in a deep but loving undertone. But the blond was only half awake, hand clutching the side where the cultists had coated him with the gunk. He felt wrong somehow and his hand covered a red, golf ball-sized pocket of flesh that was starting to sag from him.

"I shall try…" The Maou said as he laid Wolfram down. He knelt next to the blond and gently removed his hand, trying to see. He placed a hand directly over the swollen flesh and was driven back by sudden shock.

The Maou glanced at his own hand. It was crimson and he shook it, as though stinging.

Wolfram moaned.

Black slitted eyes stared curiously as the flesh changed shape—now developing red, sinewy tendrils growing at an alarming rate.

Wolfram turned his chin up, meeting his eyes with an apologetic glance. "You can't really help me, can you?"

The Maou shook his head. "…Healing this is not possible…"

The blond soldier nodded grimly. If The Maou couldn't do it, then this was, indeed, grave news. "But…you tried for my sake…and, for that…I thank you…" He did his best to give The Maou, his Yuuri, a brave smile. Maybe, Gissela could help him. Maybe. But, he had doubts. Yuuri, in his "maou form" was almost infinitely powerful.

With a hand brushing back his long hair, The Maou sat down beside Wolfram and sighed—his body slowly becoming more rounded and boyish. The blond watched with a distant smile on his face as Yuuri reverted to the "Wimp" he was so fond of.

Even if his feelings weren't returned, this moment together meant a lot. Maybe, it would be their last. And Wolfram tried to etch into his heart the image of Yuuri returning, coming back to him.

From behind, a horse blanket was wrapped around Wolfram's shoulders and he turned to see that it was Conrad.

"Yuuri would want me to," his brother said with a shrug to hide his concern, and Wolfram knew it was the truth. Wolfram could only nod weakly in agreement and then curl up in the blanket, lying next to Yuuri's prone form.

Together. They were together, side by side.

One last time.

He would just close his eyes for a minute. That's all he needed to do.

But, it still tugged at the back of his mind. His body had changed and he could feel the difference—a kind of rounded, bubbled, bloated feeling on his side. And the sudden fatigue was concerning him, but not enough to keep him awake. And with tears he didn't understand, Wolfram fell into a deep sleep.

 

________________________________________

 

Without a knock, the door flew open on its own accord, smacking solidly into the stone wall. Wolfram's limp, blood-covered body was hauled into Gissela's infirmary by Conrad along with Wolfram's two other soldiers.

Gently, the brunette soldier placed his brother down on an empty bed with the words "I'll be right back." But Gissela knew where he was going. He needed to be the one to get Gwendal. He had to be the one to tell him the news. Anything else was unacceptable.

Gissela turned to her unexpected patients. Unlike the blond who was wrapped securely in a light blue horse blanket, the other two men had what appeared to be chemical burns on their hands with parts of their uniforms faded and eaten away in places—leaving exposed skin red and raw. They were cursing at the blistered skin. Unable to move on their own, they were being helped in by two of Conrad's most trusted soldiers.

Noting the burns and giving a quick glance to Wolfram—whose bleeding lip had stopped oozing long ago—Gissela took charge of the situation.  
"Why didn't you just remove the uniforms?" she asked harshly. This would be common sense.

"It didn't get bad until right before we got here," Wilks gritted as he was unceremoniously stripped down by the green-haired healer. "And I know I didn't feel anything for quite awhile."

"Of course you didn't," Gissela said, exasperated. "Those uniforms are thick."

What didn't come off because the material had stuck to oozing skin, was going to hurt. She produced a pair of scissors and began cutting the remaining cloth off wearing the thickest gloves that she had.  
While working, Gissela ordered her first and second year assistants to attend to Wolfram, who appeared to be asleep.

"We were lured into a trap," Wilks moaned piteously as Gissela motioned for her assistant to bring in water to wash the wounds.

The second soldier, Colins, in the next bed nodded, struggling to breathe and not just take in gulps of air. He had made the mistake of touching the tip of his nose at some point and breathed in the fumes. His wrists hurt like hell, too, but if Wilks wasn't going to complain about the blisters and burnt skin from the esoteric stone charms in the ropes, neither was he. He wasn't a wuss. "They had those blasted esoteric stones! And, before we knew it, they bound us."

"Oh, my!" the pink haired assistant next to Gissela exclaimed. She was handing cotton and bandages over as instructed. "They intended to capture and then kill you!"

"That's not it," the first soldier breathed. "They belonged to some cult…I think… then they poured…"

"WHAT THE HELL?!" screamed the brunette Mazoku man attending Wolfram.

The room silenced and Wolfram's men suddenly turned in his direction.

The blond, who had been naked from the waist up when he was brought in, had the horse blankets removed from his body revealing a thick, gelatinous substance glistening over his stomach, side, and ribs. There was a red, fibrous outer coating which hung like a small, pouch-like meat bag which fell flaccidly to the side.

The male healer unbuttoned Wolfram's military trousers only to reveal more red, meaty strands. There was an organic smell that hinted of cut beef on a hot summer's day.

"Finish up and give those two the sleeping tea," Gissela rasped quickly to her assistant as she made hurried steps for Wolfram's bedside.

The blond turned his head left and right, eyes clamped shut, one arm at his side and the other draped off the bed.

From the glistening on the palms, it was obvious to Gissela that Wolfram had tried to brush the substance off of himself, but had stopped at some point. Maybe, he'd passed out from the pain or he had to defend himself from the cultists again with no time allowing.

Whatever the case, he was in dire straights now.

"Whatever should we do?" the assistant asked, trying to mask his horror in front of the patients. He'd been warned that he would see things in the infirmary and on the battle field that would haunt him in nightmares. But this was not a bad dream.

It was real—horribly, horribly real.

The door opened and Conrad entered, head turned to the right to speak with Gwendal who was at his side. "I left Yuuri Heika with Mother and Greta because…Oh, great Shinou! WOLFRAM!"

Their eyes disbelieving and wild, the brothers turned to Gissela for an explanation. Wolfram's body was covered in something that they couldn't distinguish, but a most gruesome sight it was.

"What is that on him?!" Gwendal demanded hotly. He thought he would vomit and came very close to it in spite of his years of active military service.

On instinct, Gissela wanted to throw them out. But, at this point, there was no helping it. They would probably fight and argue to stay, wasting time. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "We've never seen anything like it before."

"Then, cut it off of him, woman! And clean him up!" Gwendal shouted as he went to his brother's bedside and took his thin, pale hand.

Gissela shrunk back a little. Gwendal wasn't the leader of the Mazoku Army for nothing. He could be very intimidating when being protective. Usually, she could stand up to him. However, this time it was different. "I…uh…"

She could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on her.

"Do it!" he ordered as he sat on the empty bed next to Wolfram.

The healer bit her lower lip, thinking. She really wanted to buy time, to mull things over before acting. "We really should take him to the operating chamber," she countered, "and make preparations."

"N-o-w," Gwendal gritted out and Conrad placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him a little.

Reluctantly, Gissela motioned to her assistant to get a scalpel and it was rushed to her on a silver tray. She narrowed her eyes in concentration—trying to decide where to start. "I know how to remove leeches," she prattled, "but it's not like that. This structure seems alive but totally different from the animal life I'm used to seeing. So, we'll try this first…" The room, still quiet, seemed to make every second seem an eternity. If she could just get part of this—whatever it was—off, and maybe see the inside of it, she wouldn't be working in the dark any longer.

Gissela began to cut very gingerly at the nearest thick strand.

"NO!" and, immediately, Wolfram threw his head back. He pressed a hand to his chest and his lips turned blue. Between deep, agonized breaths he gritted "Hurts! Hurts!" Wolfram's mouth opened impossibly wide, gulping air as his fingers clawed into his chest.

"Wolfram! Wolfram!" Gwendal called, holding onto his brother's other hand which had tightened impossibly around his own.

"Oh, hell!" Gissela hissed darkly to herself, struggling to take Wolfram's other hand. She pulled it away from the chest so she could do her job. A green, healing glow came from her hand and she concentrated hard on healing the cut strand back into place. Finally done with the task, she traced the line it made back to Wolfram's heart. "Damn," she muttered and then hovered her hand over the other red strands that were becoming more and more pronounced and web-like by the minute.  
"…Not good…"

Gissela forced herself to concentrate.

"What is it?" Conrad asked in her ear as he leaned over. "Please tell us."

She shook her head, hands falling helplessly into her lap. Then, she leaned back to meet eyes with him. "I can't get it off. I'm so sorry."

"WHAT?!" Gwendal roared from across Wolfram's body. He looked every inch the lion that was protecting a small cub.

Meanwhile, the blond had collapsed in the bed and was struggling to breathe, producing a deep wheezing sound. His shoulders curled in, hands pressed against his chest once more. Every breath shook him.

Gissela pushed away the hands and placed a healing glow over the blond's chest once more. "I tried…but…I just can't get this off," she said quietly, feeling like a failure, "because these strands are connected in a strange way." She narrowed her eyes. "They appear to lead straight to his heart. By cutting them, I could give him heart failure." She hovered her hand over the meaty lump and followed a line with her finger. "This part…here…seems to be connected to his digestive system…taking in nutrients." She turned from Conrad to Gwendal and said, suppressing a shudder, "It appears to be some sort of parasite."

"That can't be!" Conrad exclaimed, sick inside for his little brother's sake. Hadn't he promised from the moment of birth that he would protect him?

The Mazoku administrator's blood boiled. "So, what I'm hearing is that you can't remove the thing even if it's attached to his heart and feeding off of him at this very minute?" Gwendal said furiously. Anger seemed to be all that he was capable of. Then, he turned to Wolfram's men. "What about those bandits…or cult freaks…or whatever they are?" He could feel his blind anger abating with the thought of interrogating prisoners. "I want to see them!"

The first soldier raised himself up on his burnt elbow, small patches of skin on his arms pink and raw lined in blackish, curled away skin that was, even now, getting bandaged. "I…killed them..." His eyes filled with guilt and shame. What a mistake it had been for him to do that. Certainly, the cultists would need to be interrogated so that they could understand what the men had done and why. "I was able to escape with Collins…and…" He motioned to the man next to him. "I hurled fireballs at anything that moved. I set them all on fire…robes, hair, anything that would burn. I killed them. I'm sure of it." Then, he glanced at Conrad. "Yuuri Heika…will be furious with me…punish me, right? I know he doesn't want us to kill anyone, but…"

Wolfram, his commander and the maou's fiancé, was important to him. And, it was a well known fact that Wolfram's elite guard more than just admired their commander. They were a little in love with him, too.

Conrad gave a pained nod to Gwendal. He'd been there and witnessed Wolfram's men acting out in blind fury. It was understandable.

The second soldier added. "I used my earth magic to fight them, too. I hurled sharp stones at their weak points…including the back of the head. So, I should be disciplined, as well."

Gwendal folded his arms against his chest. "How many of them were there?"

"We think we found eight beaten and charred bodies. But, right now, it's hard to tell," Conrad said quickly, seeing how Collins and Wilks were starting to succumb to the sleeping tea. Their eyes were half lidded and Wilks had lowered himself down onto the bed on his stomach.

"Did they find anything at the scene?" Gwendal asked Conrad.

"We found a very old scroll and I had one of my men sketch down any markings or carvings left in the cave that could help us." Conrad straightened up but kept his eyes riveted on Wolfram. "All of that information is being studied by Günter right now."

"Good." Gwendal turned back to Gissela, frustrated. "I don't care how long it takes…" He jabbed a finger in her direction. "…Find a way to kill it!"

She shook her head as she tucked back a piece of her green hair behind her ear. This time, Gissela was in total agreement but she knew she could do nothing for the moment. 

Her hands were tied. Maybe, her father could decipher something based on the scroll and the cave markings. "We'll keep working on it, however…" Then, her eyes grew determined. The mantra "Do no harm" kept chanting in her head. "…As for right now… if I kill it, I kill him, too. And neither one of us would want that."

"I'll call Mother," Conrad said, trying to pull himself together from the piteous sight before him. "We're going to have a family meeting."

________________________________________

 

While Wolfram was moved to the small quarantine infirmary for more privacy, a meeting was being held in Lady Cheri's private tea room in her suite. The round table was covered in a lacy, antique table cloth with matching curtains at the window. The scent of vanilla and Mazoku Breakfast Tea filled the room along with a plate of untouched biscuits.

A maid quickly poured tea into the cups and scurried away.

Conrad glanced at the door to make sure it was shut properly. It wasn't the original door, of course, because Wolfram burned that one down when he was twenty-one. The replacement didn't quite reach the floor—which was a good thing. He looked beneath the door to make sure that there were no shadows of eavesdropping servants.

"Why is he here?" Gwendal asked in almost a growl. He motioned to Yuuri. And the double black blanched at it.

"I asked him here," Lady Cheri said evenly, "because he is Wolfy's fiancé."

Gwendal gave an exasperated look which clearly said, "The engagement's a lie and I can't believe you keep ignoring that."

Yuuri didn't miss it at all. "I care about Wolfram," he defended.

"And if he dies…?" Gwendal stopped himself from going on thanks to Conrad putting a brotherly hand on his arm. What he would have said was, "And if he dies, would you care the way a fiancé should?" But, he knew, that would just be taking his anger and frustration out on a third party. And that "third party" was, unfortunately, his king.

"First," Lady Cheri said carefully to keep her tone even, "I've been told, while waiting…that there is…something…attached to my baby." Tears formed. Real ones. "How horrible!" She pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.

"Gissela says that it's some kind of parasite that's feeding off of Wolfram." Conrad wanted to console her but she needed to know everything. Glossing over the truth wouldn't help because she would, in time, discover the whole story anyway.

"And there's no way to get rid of it?" Yuuri asked. "Back home, we can use medicine to kill tapeworms and stuff. I could go back and try…"

Conrad shook his head. "Gissela thinks that if we try to kill it, Wolfram wouldn't survive. We watched her work on him and it almost stopped his heart."

Lady Cheri stifled a sob.

"We can't just let him die," Yuuri said with certainty. "We have to do something."

Conrad placed elbows on the table and his head in his hands. "Yes, but what?"

Yuuri looked at his godfather and felt sorry for him. Never had he seen Conrad at a loss. He always had a plan. He knew what to do.

There was a banging at the door. "I'll get it, My Lady!" was called from the other room. Lady Cheri's Lady-in-Waiting, Isabeau, opened the door hesitantly with a "Yes?" She blinked her dark purple eyes in curiosity.

A first year healer, mostly out of breath, huffed as he was bent over from his sprint. He turned his head in the direction of those seated. "Lady Gissela requests that all of you come. It's regarding the health of Sir von Bielefeld."

"Wolfie!" Lady Cheri gasped.

Conrad and Gwendal exchanged grim looks. They helped their mother get to her feet and escorted her to the door.

Yuuri couldn't speak or think. All he knew was that he had to be by Wolfram's side. And, as they made their way toward the infirmary, the double black quizzed Conrad about all he'd seen and heard. It was awful of him to do it, he knew, but he just had to know.

Not knowing was too painful.

________________________________________

 

The knob rattled first. Turning to the opening door, Wolfram's green eyes couldn't mask the spark of fear within them. Quickly, he searched the small group of people for the face he wanted most and seemed relieved when Yuuri entered the room last, following the others.

Yuuri…

He needed him.

Some part of Wolfram wanted to extend an arm, reach out a hand—hold his hand and feel the warmth and security there. A lifeline. But, he was certain that the double black would reject his touch. And the shame of reaching out to someone only to be rebuffed would be too much. Something inside of him would break.

Wolfram shook the thought from his head. I'm an idiot. No, he would get through this—somehow—and survive this on his own, as usual.

Steeling himself before he could do it, Wolfram forced himself to glance down at the bulbous thing attached to him covered in strands that were thickening almost before his eyes. It was dewy-wet now and moving, shifting. It was slightly bigger than when The Maou had tried to heal it. Moreover, there seemed to be something inside the bag and it had grown quickly just after Gissela had placed her healing magic on it to examine the contents. And the pain of that sudden growth was beyond measure.

The blond's body arched off the bed. "That hurts!" Wolfram barked at her and got a scowl back from Gissela.

The healer, with careful precision, pulled out a dark yellow stone tucked into the underside of the meat bag as the others crowded around her. "This was hidden…and, I think, this combined with my healing magic made the parasite much bigger." She nipped her lower lip for a second and glanced apologetically at the others in the room. "I was only trying to analyze, not cause growth."

"That may have been their plan from the start," Conrad said in a way he hoped took the edge off. "And who knows what that alter was made of? It might have had within it something very similar to our own magic…considering that humans have none."

Removing the stone was a relief but Wolfram was forced to breathe in shallow breaths now. His eyes were full of tears from the pain and there WAS pain—growing.

Weak and eyes half open, he glanced at Yuuri again and met his worried stare. This might be the last face he would ever see. And, if it was, he had no regrets. He'd fought hard and with honor. Yuuri… Even if the love had been one sided, it was enough that he had these years with the double black. And his feelings were his own. No one could rip them away from him, even in death.

"Take this stone to Anissina for analysis," Gissela ordered her pink-haired assistant. The woman bowed with a small tray in her hands. The stone was wrapped in cloth and placed on it. Without a word to anyone, she left.

"I'll ask my father to let me have access to his private collection of medical books and…" The pinkish lump of flesh shifted on its own, catching Gissela's attention. She gaped as it moved again.

"What just happened?" Conrad asked, pointing to the still shifting hunk of flesh.

"I-I don't know…exactly. I'll try to peek inside…see what's in there…" With a timid green glow from her hands, she began to scan.

"Stop it!" Wolfram recoiled in the bed, groaning loudly. One palm was over his heart and the other over his stomach. He was in pain, struggling, head thrashing… "N-No more!"

"Wolf!" Yuuri called as he wove his way from the back of the group. He knelt next to the bed. He placed his hand over Wolfram's hand, fingers laced over his heart. The double black knew that this would mean the most to Wolfram.

The pain was growing—white hot.

Labored breathing.

The blond squeezed his emerald eyes shut and screamed a victim's scream, body arced back into the bed.

Yuuri, still beside the bed, draped an arm over Wolfram's shoulders as he pressed his cheek against the blond's.

Please stop!

Please stop!

Gissela…someone… please, make it stop! 

In the background, Yuuri could hear the healer issuing orders in angry tones. There were footsteps. Healers moving forward. Conrad and the others moving away. All Yuuri could do was hold Wolfram and pray that this moment would end.

That was all.

It had to end.

It just had to.

Onegaishimasu!  
________________________________________

 

In Gissela's office, the healer was joined by Yuuri, Conrad, Gwendal, Günter, and Lady Cheri around a wide table that smelled vaguely of medicinal herbs and dusty tomes.  
"As you have all witnessed, the parasite grew again." Gissela leaned back in the chair with her arms folded defensively. She looked at no one as she spoke. "Add to the fact that the host…"

"You mean, my brother…" Gwendal corrected and got a light, tearful glare from his mother which was telling him to "shush."

"Yes, well…" The healer pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from the side of her slender neck. "If you haven't noticed, he's suffered some very unusual effects this time." She glanced at Günter and said, "Do any of the medical texts or historical texts mention this kind of thing?"

The lilac haired adviser shook his head. "I will keep diligent in my search, however…"

"However?" Conrad said.

"Well, you can see it for yourself. He's grown—physically. He's suddenly three centimeters taller than he was before this episode. We compared it to his military charts. I'd say he's 168 cm. And, he's aged."

Yuuri hummed an agreement to it. Had the blond been on Earth, he would have believed that Wolfram had already graduated from high school and was starting his college life.  
"We measured his feet. They are a full size larger. And his fingers have plumped out, too…and are more squared off than before."

Lady Cheri put a lace hankie to her left eye. "Yes, his hands…very much like his father's in that regard."

"His hair is much thicker and very long," Günter noted dryly.

Yuuri glanced away awkwardly. Yes, he would notice hair, wouldn't he?

"Yes, well…" Gissela glanced somewhat disapprovingly at her father. "What we need to do now that he's stabilized is to get him back to eating again. And, that's going to take effort because we couldn't get him to take a bite the first time he woke up."

Suddenly, Yuuri found himself being stared down by everyone in the room. "W-What?" He sweat dropped.

"You can do it!" Wolfram's mother said with hands clasped before her breasts. Her face seemed hopeful again even if her eyes were shining with tears. "We can count on you, can't we? Make my poor Wolfie eat."

Yuuri's jaw dropped a little.

"It would be a good thing," Conrad chimed in. "It's something, I think, only you can do…because he trusts you. In fact, we all do." Then, to sweeten the deal, he added, "And, for a few days, I'm sure you can skip your lessons and paperwork so that you can spend breakfast, lunch, and dinner with my little brother."

Gwendal nodded a reluctant approval. Yuuri, in his opinion, was getting off easy, but it couldn't be helped.

The stares continued and Yuuri felt himself caving in. This was for Wolfram's good and Conrad, especially, was requesting it.

"Oh, and snacks. He should have two snack times, too," Gissela said with a thin smile. "We just need him to eat."

"But, why won't he eat?" Yuuri asked her and saw the smile fade from her face.

"Because, once he realized that a parasite was attached to him…that we couldn't kill it…he…uh…." She actually squirmed in her seat a little and it made Yuuri uncomfortable.

"Yes?"

Briefly, Gissela took in the faces around her and then continued with "He didn't want to keep feeding something that was living off of him." Then, she leaned forward with a determined look. "But, if we are going to remove it, I need a patient that is in the best possible physical state. And, in this case, it means…eating."

"And if this plan doesn't work?" Gwendal asked gruffly. "If Yuuri Heika doesn't have the power of persuasion to make my little brother give up this hunger strike?"

"Oh, I wouldn't call it that just yet," Lady Cheri said, trying to keep her own spirits up as well as that of the group.

"Then, we'll force feed him. And, I guarantee that he won't like it," Gissela promised, "because I'll be doing it myself."

Yuuri waved his hands in front of the group, palms forward almost submissively with a forced, unhappy smile on his face. This had gone too far. "I'll do it! I'm sure that he'll listen to reason."

"Then, you'll do the job?" Conrad asked. "Thank you, Yuuri. We are in your debt." He gave a polite bow.

"No, it's okay…really." Yuuri's forced smile lingered as he placed a hand on the back of his head in embarrassment. "I'm sure it will all turn out okay."

________________________________________

 

 

"If you wave that spoon of oatmeal in front of my face again, Yuuri, I promise you you'll find it wedged in a very tight, kingly orifice of my choosing!"

Emerald green eyes blazed and Yuuri sat back a little. A few minutes ago, he'd perched himself on one side of the bed with a modest bowl of apple cinnamon instant oatmeal that he'd brought from Earth. The smell was delicious and, in the past, Wolfram more than liked the stuff. In fact, he ate a whole box of it by himself.

"Why are you being so difficult, Wolfram?"

Clearly, this wasn't going to work. And, he was starting to kick himself for believing that Wolfram cared for him so much that he'd be willing to do anything he asked.

"Why, Wolf? Huh?"

The blond, who was now slack-jawed, looked deeply into his eyes—huffing—and rasped, "Because, I'm going to throw up."

"Eh?"

Wolfram wasn't joking. With a hand pressed to his drooling mouth, he motioned with the other hand for the chamber pot under the bed and Yuuri only just managed to drag it out and uncover it when the blond leaned over and vomited up all of the water he'd been drinking. The ex-prince heaved hard, stomach muscles tightening, and then heaved again.

The splattering sound echoed sickeningly from within the pot.

Yuuri put the oatmeal down on the small table near Wolfram's bed so that he could hold back the waist-length blond hair that Wolfram was sporting thanks to his unexpected growth spurt.

"I'm sorry, Wolf… I-I didn't know." He patted the head and then made a clumsy attempt at a pony tail by bunching up the long locks in his fist. The hair was heavy and the fly away ends were hard to hold.

"And I hate…this hair," Wolfram coughed in between fits.

I'm sure he does, Yuuri thought. It's exactly like his mother's. And, even when it's short, Wolfram feels like he has to remind me that he's a man.

Wolfram made a motion—trying to sit up—and the young king let go of the silky strands.

"Maybe," Yuuri suggested as Wolfram straightened, "we can cut it later on."

The more mature-looking former prince wiped his mouth on the neatly folded napkin. "I guess… Just cut it and toss it."

Yuuri shook his head. "No, actually, I'd kind of like to …uhhh….have it?" He saw Wolfram's astonished expression but kept babbling on anyway like the fool he was. "Kind of a keepsake…you know?" There seemed to be such a shame in throwing something that beautiful away.

Wolfram made a vague gesture that Yuuri took as "no." "Why do you keep ignoring the rules and the culture of this world…? What good are Günter's lessons anyway?" That statement seemed to be more for his own sake than Yuuri's. Then, suddenly, sincere green eyes met black. "To give one's hair away, even a lock of it, it is a sign of affection…as in…something lovers do." The blond's face fell a little, eyes distant. "Let's just…not go there."

His words were bitter, no mistaking it.

The blond sighed as he slouched down in the bed, trying to get more comfortable because his back was killing him. His eyes trailed down to the lumpy blankets that were, mercifully, covering him so he wouldn't see—wouldn't be reminded so easily. He knew full well that sharing the bed with him was the meaty, now swelling, bag with tendrils that were reddish and growing. Very soon, he'd no longer be able to get out of bed to get to the privy.

How long could his body take the strain of the parasite? How long after that would he be dead? Dead and still attached to this…thing?

"No more pretending, okay?" Wolfram stated in a harsh undertone and Yuuri instantly knew what he meant. But it didn't make him feel good—not the relief that he always thought he'd get from Wolfram pulling away from him. He had hoped that the two of them would come to have a deep and lasting friendship in the end. But Wolfram, he knew, had wanted much, much more. He wanted to be married and to have a family—something he felt he didn't have while growing up in the castle.

But, now, things were different. Wolfram was different.

"Wolfram, I…"

"Wha-?" Wolfram muffled with a mouth full of lukewarm oatmeal. He swallowed. "You were just sitting there…staring off into space. And this smelled kind of okay…so…?" He smacked his lips as he dug in for another bite.

"But a minute ago, you didn't want it," he countered.

"Yeah," the blond agreed, rooting around for a chunk of apple. "But that was a minute ago."

"That's weird, Wolf."

"Shut up." And, then he eyed the double black sitting next to him. "And, while you're busy shutting up, go get me some milk or I'm gonna gag again."  
Yuuri sighed, "Cold or warm?"

Green eyes bulged. "Ewww! Who would want cold milk with this crap?" He twirled an oatmeal smudged spoon in the air between two fingers.

"It's not crap, Wolfram. It's oatmeal."

The blond scraped the bottom of the china bowl. "It's oaty-crap and I want some milk." Then, he aimed the spoon at Yuuri again like a pointer. "And put some strawberry juice in the milk. Yeah, that's it. Strawberries."

Lord Brat was determined and Yuuri threw up his hands in defeat. "Okay, Wolf. I'll go get it." But, as he made his way out the door, he thought with relief, I can't believe I got him to eat. After a day and a half…I finally did it.  
________________________________________

 

"Okay, the next card I put down is…the Red Phoenix Ace?" Yuuri asked hesitantly. "Right here… Right?"

Craning his head, Wolfram leaned over as much as his body would allow so that he could peek at Yuuri's card.

They were both on Wolfram's hospital bed playing Double Dragon with Yozak's favorite deck. The space between them was where they were laying out the cards in a jagged, inverted pyramid. This game, the double black discovered, was very much like solitaire but they each had to take turns—working as a team—to get every card in the right place. This was a basic game that new recruits had to play to teach them to rely on a partner. And, since it was a game that his soldiers all knew how to play, Yuuri wanted to learn, too.  
"Yes, put it there," the blond agreed with a vacant expression that was quickly becoming second nature to him after being trapped in the bed for three solid months.

Trying to stay strong, to stay sane, was putting a strain on Wolfram. On most days, he simply wanted to shut down. And he'd often force himself to nap throughout the day just as an escape. Yuuri would be in his lessons or signing papers anyway. So, it wasn't as though he had to do anything like entertain him like he usually did when Yuuri came to visit. Wolfram felt that he was obligated to do that—to at least show that kind of courtesy to his… Well, he wasn't sure what they were to each other anymore anyway.

Wolfram's mind wandered as he put down the Black Tortoise Seven card in the appropriate spot. Less than a minute later, he watched with vague interest as Yuuri said, "Oh, good!" because he drew the perfect card to place on top of it.

"Was that okay?" Yuuri asked, seeking praise.

"Yes," the blond answered, trying to keep his focus. But it was hard.

Yuuri smiled at him and joked, "Well, I wouldn't want you to get mad and throw a fire ball at me or something."

The ex-prince shrugged lightly and extended a palm. A tiny flame—as though from a match—burned within his hand. "My magic is low these days. Believe me, I'm no threat to anyone."

And I can no longer protect you. Can't you see that?

Yuuri bit his lower lip in embarrassment. He'd really stuck his foot in it this time and just when they were having a pleasant time, too. Why hadn't someone told him this was happening to Wolfram?

"Don't worry about…" Wolfram's breath hitched when he felt the meaty bag, which had grown much larger in size, shift next to him. The creature was awake again and moving.  
The blond cringed and the card between his fingers dipped down, almost dropping before he caught it.

Please, no!

"Oi…Wolf?" Yuuri said in an undertone laced with worry. He placed a hand on Wolfram's shoulder to steady it and convey his concerns.

Instead of giving comfort, it did the opposite. It reminded the ex-prince of how feeble he was now. Weeks ago, when the dizzy spells had started, he remembered putting a hand to his head and hearing the same thing, "Oi, Wolf?" in that frightened tone that was so unlike a king. It made Wolfram sick at heart just knowing that he was the one who made Yuuri react like that. And, now, it was happening again but for a different reason. There was no way he'd tell Yuuri about the shifting parasite.  
Hideous.

"Wolf?" Yuuri said in a stronger tone, now shaking the blond bishonen a little.

Wolfram whispered a soft "sorry," and placed his card down as though nothing had happened.

"Are you okay?" Yuuri insisted and looked into green eyes that had pupils wide, fearful.

Wolfram smoothed over his features, determined to be strong. "The same as yesterday." He shrugged off Yuuri's hand to gesture to the double black to place down the next card.  
Yuuri leaned into Wolfram's face. "That's not an answer."

The blond shook his head slightly at that. "I know." He glanced again and said, "Your turn."

At this point, Yuuri couldn't decide whether to keep going or not. There was something wrong with Wolfram—again—and he was getting pretty tired of the blond keeping his symptoms to himself. It was even more maddening the day Wolfram refused to talk to Gissela and shot back with, "Well it's my job to know and it's her job to find out." At that point, the double black wanted to strangle him. "She can't do anything if you don't tell her." But he shouldn't have said that because Wolfram lowered his voice dangerously with, "She can't do anything for me now."

It was Wolfram's tearful eye-shine that got the better of him. So, he let the matter drop. But, after that, he made his visits more often and for longer periods of time. Apparently, he was the only one Wolfram was half way willing to open up to. So, for the time being, Yuuri decided to be a better companion and a closer friend.

Raven eyes saw it. Wolfram cringed and took a quick breath, holding it.

"Wolf?"

The blond glanced at him and then chewed on his lower lip as though trying to decide something important.

"There's something…isn't there?"

The blond turned to him, still making a choice.

He's trying to get the courage to confide in me, the double black thought. I wish he would. It would be much easier if I knew what was going on…what his body is doing.  
He watched Wolfram place a card down and, speaking with as casual a voice as he could, he asked, "Could you do something for me…?"

That was another thing Yuuri had noticed. For months now, Wolfram avoided speaking his name. There was no "Yuuri" in any of his sentences. There was no reference to being a "fiancé," either, for that matter. And, he'd kept an ear out for any usage of "Your Majesty" –which Wolfram added to sentences when he was thoroughly pissed.

No, none of that. And it felt lonely because Wolfram's words to him were stiff and lifeless on even the best of days.

"If I could help, you know I would." Yuuri tried to put on a happier face and asked, "Does it involve getting you some water or a snack?"

Yes, he'd get him something and, then, the blond would open up to him.

Wolfram shook his head as Yuuri put his card down.

"Back in…the bedroom…in the dresser where I keep my trousers…" Wolfram pretended to examine his card. He focused on Black Tortoise Four, running the tip of his finger over the edge.

"You want your...trousers?" Yuuri, inwardly, scoffed at that. Wolfram had been wearing hospital gowns for weeks and weeks. With the damp, meaty bag connected to him and the tendrils, there was simply no way he could fit into anything else.

The blond shook his head. "There's a dagger with a rosewood handle that I keep hidden there." Green eyes turned to Yuuri with purpose. "I want you to bring it to me."

Yuuri scratched his head. "Why would you want…?" And then it hit him. HARD. "Wolf, I can't believe you! You can't be serious!" Yuuri's outrage was clear. But Wolfram's expression was serious, too, and the double black was appalled. "Do you really think that I'd bring you something that…?!" He couldn't finish the sentence. It made him sick inside.

Wolfram fisted the front of his companion's black jacket and pulled with all of his might. "No, you're the one who doesn't get it! I want to end this!" he said in a bloodthirsty tone. "I don't want to be like this anymore. I'll cut myself free from this…this thing! I've waited long enough!"

Frightened, Yuuri grabbed Wolfram's shoulders and dug in his nails. "Gissela has told us over and over that when she tried, you almost died!" He leaned forward, livid that Wolfram would conceive of something so self-destructive and, then, to ask for his help.

"Did you hear me, Wolfram? You'll die! And it won't be a painless death, either!"

"Yes, I'll die," Wolfram agreed, eyes filled with angry tears. How tainted he was now. How impossible for him to be the way that he was ever again. Not good enough for Yuuri. Not good enough. "I'll die but, for a few seconds, I'll be free. And nothing…and no one…can take that away from me."

Onyx eyes widened.

He's serious! He's really thought this through.

Yuuri grabbed Wolfram and took him into his arms, almost sobbing, "Stop…just stop talking. No more! Please, Wolf, no more…"

Before Wolfram realized it, he could feel warm tears on his cheeks—tears that weren't his. Yuuri was crying softly, rocking him and clutching him as though he'd disappear if no one held onto him.

Yuuri cried his name. That hurt more than anything in any argument they'd ever had.

Wolfram let his head fall back onto his shoulders as he listened to Yuuri sob against him. He had done it—reduced his king, his ex-fiancé to tears. It was a desperate but foolish request. And, even if Yuuri had complied, he would have blamed himself for the suicide for the rest of his days.

I was selfish, Wolfram thought. But I was just so desperate in that one moment…

"Promise me," Yuuri rasped, shaking the blond from his regret. "Promise…" It sounded like an order. "You won't take your own life."

Wolfram stopped the soft, circular movements of his hands on Yuuri's back. He'd been comforting him this whole time and never realized it. The blond shook his head sadly at himself. He'd sunk so low.

Maybe, he deserved this fate and a long, lingering death could somehow atone. It would certainly make Yuuri feel better.

"Agreed," Wolfram sighed, barely able to meet the unwavering, tear-stained look boring into him. "I won't seek my freedom again."

"It was death you wanted," Yuuri argued with more force that he'd realized, face wet and eyes red. He rubbed his nose on his sleeve.  
"Semantics," the blond countered evenly.

"Then, maybe, I'll go tell your brothers what you asked me to do." Yuuri stood up from the bed, anger setting in as well as a new distrust of Wolfram's motives.

"Do as you like," Wolfram said in a hollow voice as he settled down in the bed, placing his head on the pillow. "It's not like I can get out of this bed and stop you…my king."

The double black turned from the door, the knob in his hand. That was a low blow and he paused to wipe his wet face with the back of his hand. "That was pretty rotten of you. You know that I hate that."

"Goodbye," Wolfram said in a soft tone. "I tried to be honest with you…to tell you how I truly felt…but, as always, it was never enough."

"That's not fair!" Yuuri practically bellowed and, as a result, he could hear the scurrying of servant feet outside the door, not wanting to get caught up in another Yuuri-Wolfram whirlwind argument.

"I'm glad life is unfair…or I'd come to think I deserved everything that ever happened to me." And, with that, Wolfram folded his hands on his chest and closed his eyes.  
Pale as he was, for a brief second, Wolfram resembled a corpse and that image in his mind unnerved the double black.

Yuuri placed a palm over his eyes. He could feel tears pricking again. Whether they were out of fear or frustration, he didn't know. "I'll stay with you," he blurted out and Wolfram opened an eye.

"What?"

"I said I'll stay with you…until the end." The blond was only acting this way because he felt afraid and alone.

At that, Wolfram felt a glimmer of hope—soft and warm. But, in the next moment, he realized who he was and where he was. Reason came flooding back to him and he nodded with understanding, regarding the double black warily now.

"I will," Yuuri promised with more resolve than before. "I'll be with you until this is over with..."

Now, I see what he means, the blond thought. Out of pity, he wants to be by my side until the end comes. He sighed again and turned his eyes away. I suppose I can grant you that last wish…King Yuuri…if the sight of it will somehow soothe your conscience.  
________________________________________

 

Following that hideous lapse in judgment, Wolfram truly began to suffer. He was never left alone. If Yuuri wasn't there, bringing him books and watching him sleep, Conrad was in the room with him—talking over old times and discussing military tactics and stratagems used with his elite guard—the training of which he'd taken over.  
Wolfram watched his face.

Conrad had been told. Yuuri, the wimp, must have said something to him after being cornered into a confession. Briefly, the blond wondered who else knew of his request for the dagger and how suicidal they must think him now. Not that he ever cared about his reputation. They could add "insane" next to "the king's virgin whore" (not that he was either of those things) and "Little Lord Brat."

The lumpy meat bag actually writhed this time and, to compensate for the strands straining, Wolfram folded his arms over his chest so tightly it was hard to breathe.  
"Something?" Yuuri asked, eyes wide and taking a seat next to him.

"Why don't you find something to do?" Wolfram returned abruptly. Instead of arguing back, the suggestion was promptly ignored in that maddening Japanese fashion that Shori was notorious for. Apparently, Yuuri could be like that, too, when the situation called for it.

Wolfram found himself getting impatient and he locked eyes with Yuuri. "It's like I've been telling you, I…" And then, a sharp intake of breath. The blond bolted upright in the bed, fingers clutching at the blankets and digging in so hard that his knuckles were white. A groan escaped him.

This was embarrassing. Embarrassing as hell. Weak. Why wasn't he stronger than this?

"Wolf!" Yuuri cried, sitting next to him and putting his hands on Wolfram's face, trying to get him to focus on him. Instead, Wolfram's vision was at some point far off—drawn there by burning pain and pressure.

His face turned to ash, a death-pale taking over.

"We need Gissela!" Yuuri decided, getting up and making a run for the door to her office.

It was flung open and his rushed footsteps died away.

Alone now, Wolfram allowed himself to lie back in the bed as gingerly as he could. He was sweating profusely and panting was the only way to clear his head. This was probably it and his heart was beating wildly.

Maybe, it would all end before Yuuri got back with Gissela. He hoped to hell that would be the case. He didn't want anyone to see.

No one.

Please, let this end!

The bag was leaking from all sides, staining the bed sheets pink along with another fluid, somewhat amber in color, spreading out, too. The stench which billowed was that of sweat mixed with blood. And all of the red, web-like strands to Wolfram began to beat and pulse—straining as it tore away.

Wolfram convulsed again, turning his head away from Yuuri. When had he come back in? Maybe, Yuuri was speaking to him. Maybe. But Wolfram found himself capable of little more than groaning out the double black's name as a final goodbye.

Pain and four walls. Nothing else existed.

"Hold on, Wolfram! Stay with me!" Yuuri urged, holding Wolfram's hand with Conrad crouched down behind him with a palm on his shoulder. "Please, Wolf!"

Gissela, now dressed for surgery, approached the bed as the meaty bag suddenly ruptured and an infant fell out of it.


	2. Chapter 2

"Fate is not satisfied with inflicting one calamity."  
~ Publilius Syrus

 

________________________________________

 

It had been two hours since the remarkable birth and Wolfram was still holding the tiny baby wrapped up tightly in a blue blanket in his arms. The child had a fuzzy layer of stark white hair and the eyes had quickly changed from a waxy grey to the most unique, pinkish color Wolfram had ever seen.

Sadly, Wolfram rocked the baby a little bit as Günter continued reading from an old tome.

"According to my research, there were humans along that region of the borderlands who once worshiped an albino god of retribution called 'Xahan'." The lilac haired adviser's delicate finger ran down the page of the book. "Here it mentions very specific instructions… that to open the portal to our world and make the god appear, the sacrifice of a strong Mazoku female was necessary along with a stone of "orig"…"

"It's probably that yellow stone that we found and had Anissina analyze," Gissela chimed in. "Anissina says it's a rare esoteric stone. It can store energy for a time and then, slowly, it will release it."

Günter, annoyed he was interrupted, cocked his head sideways as if to say, "Can I go on?" and his daughter smiled indulgently. So, he continued. "And…" He squinted at the words in tiny script. "It looks like…here…it says… 'the warmth of concern' or some such thing…" He scratched his head, "Whatever that means…" He went back to reading. "…During the Northward Equinox….ummm… The altar had to be blessed and the Mazoku intended had to be a willing sacrifice blessed first with the sacred elixirs." Günter glanced up from the book. "But, from what I gather, none of the people involved were female and none were willing. Come to think of it, the elixirs may not have even been mixed properly to bring the albino god to this world. So, in essence, the spell went awry."

Conrad agreed and said, "This explains why women were being found dead in that area along the border. And the few they caught who were Mazoku probably weren't powerful magic wielders and were trying to escape. So, when the cultists spotted our patrol…"

"They wanted me…thinking I was a woman…" He shook his head at the mistake. "…Because…they were running out of time." Wolfram said it in a flat, dead tone that worried Yuuri.

The double black turned to look at the baby again. Like the others in the room, he just couldn't help himself. He was drawn to it.

The baby's face was a chibi version of Wolfram's even though the eyes were slightly swollen and puffy. And, tightly swaddled as he was, he was still curled in slightly with knees curved to chest. Certainly, he was a grumpy little lump and surprisingly heavy against Wolfram's chest.

"But a baby!" Lady Cheri enthused, hands clasped together. "I never dreamed that we'd have one like this." She leaned on Gwendal a little, lacing her arm through his. "And we were all so worried, too."

Wolfram lightly patted the child lying against his chest as he watched his mother. Would he turn out to be like her? All bubbly and enthusiastic? Unrealistic? He hoped, to hell, not. Wolfram glanced at the sleeping child. The eyes were almost totally closed with only a thin sliver of pink showing. The sound it made, besides low cooing, was a slight snort from the nose. Wolfram remembered Gwendal saying that he made light snorts as an infant, but only now did it make sense to him.

This child was his now. And he didn't know what to think or to feel. What was worse was that he didn't know how to react.

Something felt unfair…profoundly unfair.

Exhausted, Wolfram closed his eyes and felt the baby being lifted from him.

"Sleepy?" Gissela asked as she rocked the child.

"A little," he confessed.

"Good! Get some rest." And with a cooing Grandmother Celi, Uncle Gwendal, and Uncle Conrad following, the green haired healer left.

Once again, Wolfram turned to Yuuri, but his expression was unreadable.

"Congratulations," Yuuri said. It seemed the proper thing to say with any birth. He gave a goofy smile.

Wolfram's eyes grew cold and that confused the double black. Maybe, he thought, he's not happy. Or, maybe, he's still in shock. He nodded to himself. Yes… That's got to be it. Something like this would surprise anyone…especially a man.

Yuuri gave it another go. He tried his brightest simile—the one Wolfram could rarely resist. "It's going to be okay, Wolfram. Just give it some time. You'll see."

Wolfram crossed his arms against his chest. "I don't think time fixes things," he retorted hoarsely. "You've taught me that."

"Oh, come on, Wolfram," Yuuri cajoled with effort—straining to keep things cheerful. "I've heard that when women give birth…"

"I'm not a woman," Wolfram interrupted, pitch rising, too. "But, had I been, our lives would have been very different. I see that now." Green eyes took in Yuuri as though this was the first time they'd ever met, as though truly seeing Yuuri for the first time.

Once again, Yuuri didn't like the look. He fought a frown.

"Wolfram, I…" He stopped. He wasn't sure how to finish.

"It's over," Wolfram stated flatly, giving him an expression that showed how serious he was. "I've just given birth to a child that's not yours. The minimum punishment for that is flogging and a dissolution of the engagement." He raised his chin defiantly. "I doubt you'll have me flogged…so…"

"Wolfram, stop it," Yuuri said with an edge. He didn't want to storm out, but the desire was there. "You're just scared."

The blond, fatigued as he was, turned his face away. "Nothing frightens me. I can handle anything. I'll be fine."

Of course, he would say that.

With a frustrated sigh, Yuuri went to the edge of Wolfram's bed, sat down, and pulled the blond into a tired hug. "I agree. Nothing frightens you." Yuuri smiled when he felt arms wrap around his waist. He'd won the argument so far. "And you will be fine…We will be fine…together."

Wolfram shook his head, mussed-up blond hair against his shoulder. "It's too much to ask of you. I have to handle things all on my own now."

"You're not alone, Wolfram," Yuuri said impatiently. Why wasn't he getting it? Yuuri hugged Wolfram harder with each word. "You have the others…a-and me."

"It's unfair." Wolfram muffled into him, face pressed close.

"Who said that life is fair in the first place?" Yes, they'd had this conversation before. "Well?"

"No one." He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. Too much. This day was too much. His life had changed, suddenly, and unexpectedly—permanently.  
Yuuri smiled. "Then, it's settled."

"For now," Wolfram said reluctantly. "Only for now."

________________________________________

 

The remains of the meaty bag had shriveled and dropped away. It was till revolting, though—looking for all the world like a giant, sun dried tomato. And the blond wanted to throw up when he heard Gissela and the other healers remark, "This is one we really need to put in the formaldehyde."

They are going to preserve it?

Wolfram slouched down in the bed with his head hanging.

Revolting. Yes, the whole experience was certainly that. The only blessing would be that he would never have to go through it again.

The door opened. "And look who we have here…straight from his date with the wet nurse," the pink-haired healer said, holding the squirming bundle. After a full week of being wrapped up, the baby had decided that he didn't like that treatment and wanted softer and looser blankets. He was also sporting diapers from Earth, a present from Yuuri, along with a new outfit that his mother insisted on sending over. Thankfully, it was sage green with a cute little bib that said "boy" on it. Secretly, Wolfram was worried that she'd send over a dress.

"Hello," Wolfram greeted quietly, taking his child awkwardly in his arms. Everyone said he'd get better with practice. He hoped so.

The baby, recognizing the voice, perked up and opened his googly, pink eyes. The little arms waved with tight fists. And he gurgled as Wolfram stroked the shock of white hair that kept growing. The skin had stayed white, the color of a blank sheet of paper. But none of that mattered. Only the fact he was "a healthy Mazoku baby," as Gissela was fond of calling him, was of any importance anymore.

At least, logically, that was supposed to be important. The blond really didn't know.

Wolfram still had problems, though. His body felt "highs" that were like test anxiety back when his strict tutors were fond of quizzing him on the spot. And he felt "lows," usually in the afternoon, where black felt blacker and he had the bizarre desire to tear up for no reason at all. To deal with it, the blond simply kept chanting to himself that it was all in his head. He did a little meditation and focused on the things that mattered. And that included his return to his old life and old routine.

Yes, he held onto those plans as he rocked the baby in his arms. He needed that anchor.

"What do you plan to name him?" the pink-haired healer asked. Usually, during the first week, the family started calling the newborn by his or her given name instead of the generic "baby." The official naming ceremony, of course, would be later on.

Wolfram scratched his head a little. "Yes, I suppose I should come up with something."

The infant yawned and waggled his milk-coated tongue as he did so. The pink gums were cute, too, from a certain viewpoint. Before this, Wolfram probably would have been repulsed.

The door opened and a soldier poked his head in. Immediately, Wolfram recognized him as one of his elite guard. "Lina? We're looking for Gissela. Simon has fallen off of his horse again during practice and he's broken an arm."

"Oh, bother," the pink haired healer said as she disappeared through another door to get the medicine box. "How many times do we have to heal that one?" she called after in a sour tone.

"Sorry" the brown haired soldier apologized before he saw Wolfram and the baby. He automatically brightened. "The baby! I'd heard he'd been born." Then, he realized his commander was there and he immediately entered two steps and gave a profound bow. "Oh, and Lord von Bielefeld! I'm so sorry to intrude on your personal time."

Wolfram wanted to roll his eyes. He'd been on "personal time" for months now and he was getting tired of bed sores.

"It's not a problem," he returned diplomatically. "And, come to think of it, getting back to the subject of Simon, I'll speak to Lord Weller about his training. My brother should be visiting me today."

"Thank you," the man said and straightened from bowing again.

"Well, let's go," Lina grumbled, opening the door so that the two of them with the over-sized, white medicine box could exit. "Oh, and…Lord von Bielefeld?"

Wolfram looked at her.

"I'll be right back to see if the baby needs a diaper change!" She grinned widely. "You know, once food goes in…something always comes out! And then it's poo-poo for you."

The door closed.

"I really hate her."

________________________________________

 

Tomorrow, Gissela told him, would be the day he could take the baby and go back to his room. But, Wolfram had already decided that he wouldn't go back to the Royal Bed Chambers with Yuuri. He made the feeble excuse that the baby would keep Yuuri up and that the child needed a proper place to sleep—never mind that Greta had shared their bed with them for years and that there was room for at least five grown people on the mattress not to mention more than enough room for a crib.

Wolfram asked his mother to decorate the spare room—which he once used as a large closet—in his old quarters. Up until the incident which created his son, Wolfram had used his old bedroom as an office and it reflected that. Wolfram made sure to mention that he needed it turned back into a bedroom. And, gladly, Lady Cheri obliged.

Wolfram was holding his baby again and watched out of the corner of his eye as a first year healer exited through the infirmary, leaving the door open ajar.

"Well, someone's in a hurry," Wolfram said to the baby, tickling him under the chin. "Maybe Simon fell off his horse again. You know…Papa picked him to be in his guard because of his fire wielding. But, you know what? He's not very good on a horse."

Wolfram rocked the baby and smirked at himself a little. He was getting better at baby-talk without sounding like a complete idiot.

"Well, baby… Now, I should really pick a name for you, shouldn't I?" He scratched his chin in thought and did his best to push the knowledge from his mind that parents usually decided such things together. But, this child didn't have "parents." He had "Wolfram." And Wolfram didn't have much experience with infants or naming things. "I think I'll call you… 'Alexander' after my favorite general from ancient history…Alexi Grahn. He's a distant relative of your uncle Gwendal, by the way." Wolfram tweaked a button nose and the baby scrunched his face. "Oh, that's right… You don't know everyone, do you?"

Wolfram picked up the baby and rearranged him in his arms to get more comfortable. "Okay, there's your Uncle Gwendal…as I mentioned. He's the strong type. But he'll always have time for you because you're cute. If you cause problems, just give him a sad look and he'll do anything to help you. Ignore his gruff tone."

The blond fire wielder smiled a little and said, "Then, there's your Uncle Conrad. If trouble finds you, find him. He's the best swordsman in the whole history of Shin Makoku. You'll be safe from harm."  
Outside the door, Conrad was about to knock when he heard his name mentioned. He had a gift from their mother that she wanted delivered—a silk bib with gold embroidery. Conrad, hearing Wolfram's words, felt touched. He had no idea that Wolfram felt that way and glowed with a sense of pride that Wolfram would ask his son to seek protection from him if need be.

"Grandma Cheri is someone else you'll get to know." Wolfram took the little fist, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. "Believe it or not, she's actually a very powerful fire wielder…like me…" Then, he narrowed his eyes and took in his son's face. It was still a pale, almost ghostly version of his own. "I wonder what element you'll wield…? If it's fire, we can practice together. If not, I'll find you a good tutor. But that won't be for a few more decades."

Wolfram straightened out Alexander's little outfit. Today, it was a traditional pale blue gown that was bunched together at the hem with a white bow.  
"Greta's your big sister. I think you know her well enough by now. She keeps popping in to check on us. Tomorrow, I might let her hold you."  
The baby wrinkled his nose and sneezed.

"Bless you."

Wolfram took a corner of the baby's blanket and dabbed the tiny nose.

"And, then…there's me…" Wolfram's voice grew weary.

He took a slow breath and released it. The blond knew that, up until this point, he had been waiting. Sad as it was. No, as pathetic as it was. He had been waiting for Yuuri to come and say the words. Wolfram had said them. He said them when Yuuri made the decision to adopt Greta. Wolfram insisted that he be seen as a father, too. Parents. If Yuuri was going to adopt Greta, then Greta would be his daughter upon the wedding day.

A wedding? Between us? How dim-witted could I have been?

Wolfram shook his head sadly at that folly.

Yuuri wouldn't come. Yuuri wouldn't say the words.

Wolfram stroked the baby's white hair again. "I'm sorry…but I'm all you have. Most children have two parents. But, in this life, you'll have only me."

On the other side of the door, Conrad stood rooted. He was going to go in now, but couldn't will himself to. He remembered back to Yuuri's confession that Wolfram had asked for the dagger to end his life. But, back then, they thought the baby was some sort of parasite instead of a spell gone terribly wrong.  
Now, there was this.

"There's no one else… I'm so sorry."

Lightly, Wolfram hugged the baby to himself. What more could he do than apologize? This child would have only one parent, the stigma of being born unnaturally, albino coloring, and a questionable standing in the von Bielefeld family—if, of course, they accepted him at all.

"My poor baby…Alexander. What a sad life I've given you."

________________________________________

 

It was the night of the Golden Leaf Ball—a traditional celebration of Mazoku womanhood. Lady Cheri planned the party and, as usual, Anissina co-hosted in the hopes of luring the more influential, courtly men into accepting feminism. And, from the way she worked the room with a mixture of clever language and mentions of her inventions, she seemed to get a few men's attentions.

Gwendal frowned at that even though he agreed with Anissina. But the flirting, which was how he saw her smiles and the grace with which she offered wine to the guests, was starting to eat at him. He just didn't know why.

Yuuri entered the room with Greta on his arm. He thought it strange that Wolfram was not hounding him. Usually, he did before a major event at the castle—telling him not to dance with every girl in sight, telling him what a cheater he was, straightening up his collar and cape, whispering words of encouragement as they went out the bedroom door…  
Yuuri knew that he missed the attention. He really did.

The double black looked down and admired his daughter's dress. It was a white dress with a wide blue sash covered in an embroidered gold leaf pattern. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail made of long, dangling ringlets.

She smiled up at her father and gave a sweet curtsey.

Usually, this would get some "Oh, how cute" and "She's so sweet" comments. But the nobles, men and women alike, didn't seem to take much notice. Most of them were scanning the room for the person they most wished to see. And, this time, it wasn't Yuuri playing "father" to the little human princess.

Making his way through the crowd, Waltorana von Bielefeld, drink in hand, spotted the double black and smiled inwardly as he locked eyes and saw the Demon King cringe. He had yet to see his nephew. And, by all rights, the young blond demon should be by his fiancé's side. But, of course, that wasn't the case and he wasn't surprised.  
"Your Majesty," Waltorana greeted lowly, sans bow. Instead, he held his drink elegantly in his hand with a slight tilt to the glass so that the ruby fluid sparkled invitingly.  
"Hello," Yuuri said almost nervously as Greta skipped off for the dessert table, abandoning him.

"And just where…would my nephew be? I have yet to see him." Waltorana's hawkish eyes came back down on Yuuri. "Or the baby." The tone was dark, threatening.  
Yuuri wasn't sure who he was blaming. But, he was concerned that, if asked, he'd have to take copious notes over his many failings according to Waltorana von Bielefeld.  
Truth be told, Yuuri did blame himself to some extent. It had been five weeks since Wolfram had moved out of the infirmary and into his old rooms. Yuuri was tempted to ask more than once if he was mad at him. For, with each passing day, it seemed that the blond was distancing himself and it felt lonely.

Wolfram, on the other hand, appeared fine—if only at a distance, catching glimpses of him. Not to mention that the fire wielder had three new servants—a beautiful platinum blond Mazoku wet nurse who was only a decade older than he was, a "Day Nanny" named "Grandma Kate" and a "Night Nanny" who was absurdly tall with orange hair tied up in a tight bun. Very few people caught glimpses of the Night Nanny, for her hours were irregular—coming and going as needed.

When he wasn't resting in his room or reading in the library, Wolfram was usually seen meeting with one of his servants over tea to get briefed on his son. But it was rare for Wolfram to eat in the Dining Hall and he preferred his own company for now. And the kitchen staff took it upon themselves to bring trays of his favorite food to his room. But, they always came back half eaten or thoroughly picked through.

"You see, it's-" the double black began, hoping not to create a scene with Waltorana as the star.

"Wolfram?" Waltorana said, interrupting Yuuri's feeble excuse for a response. His line of sight moving over Yuuri's shoulder.

Standing a little ways behind his king, Wolfram von Bielefeld—wearing a dark, forest green vest, cream shirt, and matching trousers—smiled weakly at his uncle. In his arms, Wolfram carried his son, dressed in a matching cream shirt and wrapped in a light blue blanket.

"Oh, hell… You've aged!" And, to that, Wolfram openly rolled his eyes. He didn't need this.

Waltorana circled around Yuuri as though he were nothing more consequential than a chair and approached his nephew, eyeing him owlishly to the point that it was attracting a lot of attention.

"Uncle," Wolfram sighed tiredly, "please…don't."

"And that hair…"

Wolfram's eyes took on a steely glare and he tensed up. "I like it long for now. It's less of a bother." The extravagantly long ponytail tied at the nape of his neck gave an inpatient swish.

What he had just said was a lie, Yuuri knew, but he was also sure that he had something to do with it still being there instead of the short hair Wolfram preferred.  
"And this is…Alexander Marcellus von Bielefeld."

He turned the baby in his uncle's direction but didn't offer for him to actually hold the child. Lately, Wolfram had become quite protective. And there was a defensiveness that easily came to the surface whenever his child met someone new.

Waltorana's mouth opened agape. "You aren't naming…that baby… 'von Bielefeld' without our permission…are you?" He gestured to the little face peeking out from the blue blanket.

Yuuri knew that he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but he did know that there were times and places for such conversations. A party with the nobles wasn't one of them.  
Wolfram gave a cruel glare at his uncle and held the baby a bit more protectively in his arms. "There's the naming ceremony in less than a week. Either I name my son 'von Bielefeld' or I'll change it…"

Visibly, Waltorana relaxed at the thought. It was good that Wolfram could see reason. He took a sip of his drink.

"And I'll change my own as well. But, it won't be to Shibuya."

He stood his ground.

"Eh?" Waltorana practically choked in shock followed by Yuuri's reaction which was not that different.

"Enjoy your evening, uncle," Wolfram said coldly as he turned for his favorite corner in the ballroom—the one he usually took up because of Yuuri's endless flirting. But, this time, he had his son with him and everything—including Yuuri—felt so very different, so very distant.

Waltorana, seething with anger, made his way to the drinks table. He ordered the strongest wine possible and took a goblet in each hand. Yuuri watched him go until his attention was drawn by three lovely ladies in pastel gowns: one pink, one green, and one yellow.

It was almost like being surrounded. He looked behind the pink one to see Conrad standing with an amused smile on his face. Yes, his godfather was watching over him.  
The girls might have been giggling their names. He wasn't really paying attention and the orchestra was warming up—a cacophony of tight, stringy sounds. The double black turned his eyes back when he heard his name.

"Yuuri Heika," the girls said practically at once and then laughed at themselves. They began to twitter the usual comments and complements that Yuuri had come to expect. They chatted amongst themselves but easily brought him into the conversation—not being able to decide if they wanted sweets, drinks, or dances. Surely, he would stay with them, entertain them, and let them entertain him in return.

"Yes, dances!" chirped the green.

"Dances," agreed the yellow.

"Dances!" confirmed the pink.

It was decided.

Yuuri knew that the first dance would be soon and that he should dance with Wolfram. He'd made that mistake only once—spending the first dance with the daughter of a foreign dignitary—only to have Wolfram pitch a fit later in their bedroom and the girl's father, taking advantage, requesting a quickie wedding. But, unlike the sweet and passive girl he'd danced with, these girls were so insistent that they get a chance with him—to the point of making small barbs amongst themselves—that it was so very hard to say "no" and keep the peace.

In the corner of the room, Wolfram watched. "See that over there?" he said to Alexander who was busy making razzing noises. "Yes, my feelings exactly. Can we say… 'wimp'?"

Razz.

"I knew you could. Good boy."

Wolfram smirked to himself until he saw Yuuri heading his way, the crowd parting like The Red Sea. Instead of feeling glad, and he knew that at one point in his life he would have, Wolfram could feel his heart hurt.

I know what he wants. Just go through the motions. Everyone's watching.

"It's the first dance," Yuuri explained, hoping he wouldn't have to say more. "So, I guess…we should…uh…" He thumbed at the dance floor.

The baby's pink eyes turned to him and the child made a happy cooing noise. That earned him a light tickle under the chin and Wolfram relented.

The gesture was kind.

Wolfram nodded and scanned the faces behind Yuuri. The three young girls were pouting but pretending to have a nice conversation. Some of the middle aged Mazoku nobles raised eyebrows and stopped mid-drink to see. A few women were talking behind their fans but their eyes were on the double black.

Wolfram approached Gwendal who was standing with Anissina and her brother. He handed Alexander over. "I apologize but it's the first dance," the blond said in a business-like fashion with a gesture to the dance floor. He knew that his brother would understand. So, the firm nod was not a surprise.

"After you." With a side glance at Yuuri, Wolfram walked to the dance floor a half step behind the double black. He waited patiently for him to call the song. Not surprisingly, it was a waltz. And he waited once more for Yuuri to make the first move.

Unlike Wolfram, Yuuri was glad to have this moment together. It had been so long and he was looking forward to dancing together—even if he wasn't the greatest at it.  
When the music started, Wolfram moved with it but was not a part of it. He went through the motions and noted the dissatisfaction on the faces of the people around him. The disapproving stares were now more than just social and political. Yuuri, by contrast, was smiling with something almost like contentment.

You really are that clueless, aren't you?

Wolfram stepped lightly and thought, Clueless? Well, maybe, I am, too. A eyes smiled at him. Are we even engaged anymore? That's what they're all wondering.  
"Oh, Wolfram..."

The blond raised a curious eyebrow. "Yes?"

"My mother sent some more diapers and blankets. I need to give them to you."

"You went back to Earth?" Yes, a little conversation would be the polite thing to do.

The double black smiled at him. "For a few days…"

Wolfram smiled thinly. "Thank you…but I really think your mother is giving Alexander too much. It's kind of her, though. But, I…" He shook his head to push away the thought, I know we are just friends…

They danced together through the rest of the song. Other dancers joined them when the first song blended into the second. And, at that point, Wolfram wanted to stop.  
Enough. He'd had enough.

Wolfram bowed to his king and said, "I think I'd better go check on Alexander." Even from this distance, and the noise in the room, he could make out the sound of his son fussing. There was something about it which set him on edge even though he knew Gwendal was reliable. Without seeking an answer, he turned and left while noting the number of young Mazoku ladies who were waiting in the wings to take his place.

Let them.

Yuuri, standing alone, got the onslaught seconds later with the lovely young things surrounding him and asking him to be their next partner.

Of course, they meant "partner" in every sense of the word. The green dressed girl laced her arm through Yuuri's before he knew what she was doing. And, on the opposite side, the young girl with the yellow dress snuggled up—pressing her warm, ample bosom into his forearm.

Wolfram took his son back into his arms and resumed his corner out of duty. Oddly, someone had placed a chair there for him—probably Doria. And he took a seat, now finally relaxing to the point where he was actually listening to the background noise. But he stiffened up quickly enough when his sharp ears caught, "…hair white as an old man's…" and "…skin the color of death…" and "Can such a scrawny little fellow live long…?" with some elderly woman's voice saying, "abnormal…unnatural…that's what he is…"

Wolfram closed his eyes slowly, blocking out the tears that were coming. He thought that if he showed pride in his son at this event then others would accept him, too.  
"I was so stupid to believe…"

With all the pride he could muster, he would leave this party. Wolfram rearranged his features into one he hoped would be seen as calm and professional.

Wolfram stood up only to notice a violet haired Mazoku with small, pert breasts and a narrow waist twirling on the dance floor with Yuuri with a state of grace unmatched by anyone in many, many seasons. Her face was heart-shaped and she moved with soft, poised touches against Yuuri. It was Lord Krueger's daughter—a girl who had come of age two months ago. And the minor lord was making every effort to show her off. To make her a concubine or, better yet, a bride of the Demon King would certainly be a jewel in the family crown. The political and military connections would be unmatched in his family's history.

The song ended and Yuuri nodded to her embarrassingly, a hand behind his head, as an apology for his clumsy steps. As he exited the floor and stood among the throng, Yuuri turned to see if Wolfram was still there.

He was.

And he wasn't.

With a handsomely chiseled mature profile, Wolfram smiled wanly at Yuuri. It was the smile someone would wear while thumbing through an old yearbook—a smile while looking at a faded photograph while thinking, "Yes, I loved him once. How stupid of me, back then."

________________________________________

 

The ball had taught Wolfram something. His son would never be accepted in this society even though his von Bielefeld family reluctantly consented to have him keep the last name.

Wolfram kept the naming ceremony ridiculously plain—which was bothersome to his mother but he refused to relent. Coming into the Chamber of Fountains in Shinou's Temple, Murata blinked at the six candelabras on either side of the altar as Gwendal, the godparent, brought the child up to have his forehead anointed in rose oil. Wolfram remembered meeting eyes with The Great Sage and watching his gaze wander to Yuuri, who had decided to meander to a spot in the crowd next to Wolfram. But there was no joy on Wolfram's face. And even Murata could see that he was wishing the damn ceremony would end soon.

But that had been six and a half months ago. Better to forget… Yes, if he tried hard enough, he could forget Waltorana, his von Bielefeld relatives, and that questioning look that Murata kept giving him during the ceremony.

Wolfram continued to walk down the hall, having left Gissela's for the baby's monthly checkup. Sure, he could have had one of his servants do it, but Wolfram couldn't stand the wait.

There's only a year until Greta comes of age. After that, she won't need me anymore. He stroked the baby's cheek with a thumb. By that time, you, little one, should be able to walk and run…still too young to know about the bad things people will say about you. Maybe, we can move to Fox Glen. I have a summer home there that was my father's. It would be a good place to raise you.

Just the two of us.

He turned the corner.

I need to be patient…patient and…

"Heika, I'll bring in fresh towels while you take your bath," the pretty maid prattled, fidgeting slightly because she was able to capture the Demon King's attention so easily. "I'll warm them, scent them with rose petals, and put them in the usual place."

Still girlishly excited, she smiled with perfect, pearly-white teeth.

She seemed so eager. Yuuri didn't know what to say and felt a nervous smile come to him. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he could make out a familiar shape coming his way. Yuuri's eyes widened when he caught the sight of Wolfram walking in his direction.

He put his hands up defensively. "Wolf! Wolf, see… I uh…"

What could he do? Was he going to get scorched?

"Excuse us," Wolfram said with a vague nod as he passed by. He really didn't care about the exchange between Yuuri and the maid. Yes, it hurt a little but so did Yuuri's behavior at the ball. But, he had to let go. It was best for everyone. And, more over, he didn't want his son to have the illusion that his Papa was going to marry the Demon King. It was bad enough that Greta did. But, he knew he was partially to blame for that. Hopefully, Greta could be, at some point, taken aside so that they could have a long talk about a change in dreams and the need to accept reality. To hope for a marriage any longer would be a painful lie. His heart just couldn't take it anymore.

The baby in his arms patted his chest with a tiny fist. Soft, pink eyes looked up, questioning why his father seemed so sad.

Zap.

Wolfram took his hand away from the baby's back and stared at it. "That's strange."

"Wolf? Oi, Wolf?!" The voice echoed.

Wolfram sighed to himself. What was up with Yuuri? Why couldn't he just let this moment end? The blond could hear him running up from behind. Wolfram cringed in frustration, his back still to Yuuri. He would have to endure, but it didn't seem fair.

Each step hurt.

"Yes?" the blond tried to say respectfully, turning back with a placid expression.

"Hi…uh…" He shifted uneasily on his feet. Then, the double black lifted his chin and met up with hard, green eyes again. "I…uhhh…" He put his hand behind his head sheepishly. "I was wondering if we could take the kids on a picnic tomorrow. Want to?" He shifted again. "I mean…you don't eat dinner with us these days and Greta's been missing you and…"

"At noon?" Wolfram said smoothly, voice devoid of emotion.

Yuuri smiled, glad he could get his way. "Yeah!"

"Where?" Wolfram asked as he straightened Alexander in his arms. The albino baby, dressed in a little blue suit, rested his head against Wolfram's chest but cut his eyes so that he could see the double black. "Bah…Bah…" the baby said in a curious way, pink eyes watching closely.

"Under the old apple tree?" Yuuri suggested as the baby extended a hand and Yuuri, cheerfully, pretended to shake it as a man to man agreement. "I guess, it's a deal…right, Wolf?"

Wolfram glanced between Yuuri and his son. He nodded and his long, golden ponytail flashed from behind his back in much the same way Gwendal's often did. "We'll see you then." And, with a respectful bow, he left Yuuri standing alone in the hallway.

Leaving Yuuri alone was becoming a new habit for him. And, as far as he was concerned, it was a good thing.

 

________________________________________

 

"That was yummy!" Greta said, putting her plate with sandwich crumbs down in front of her. She was sitting on a blanket with Wolfram, who was holding the baby, and Yuuri. It was just the four of them and the basket of leftover food.

How long had it been since they were together? She couldn't remember.

Greta brushed off the crumbs nervously from her lap. There was something she wanted to say. Glancing at her fathers, she could see that they were well fed and feeling content. Alexander or "Zander" as he was now being called because of a slip of the tongue on Yuuri's part and the cute nickname just stuck—much to Wolfram's chagrin, stared at her with a bottle of milk inserted firmly in his cute little mouth. He made obscene sucking sounds which Wolfram smiled at.

"Um…I was hoping to discuss with both of you…uh…" Greta laughed uncertainly. She had their attentions now but didn't know how to go on from there. From a nearby shrub, a young Mazoku wearing Wolfram's colors—a member of his elite guard—came forth nervously, his hand behind his head.

"Let me guess," Wolfram said almost caustically. "You want us, your parents, to allow you to be courted…by Jonathan, here…" Wolfram's eyes took on a cold shade of green as he eyed his former subordinate. Just because Wolfram had taken a leave of absence from his elite guard and handed it over to Conrad didn't mean he no longer had power over the pipsqueak.

Yuuri's eyes bugged. "Y-You got a boyfriend and you didn't tell me?"

"She just did," Wolfram said in an undertone. "Welcome to the world of parenting."

Yuuri opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish. The blond turned to him and made the remark, "I've seen your father do that a few times. You're very much like him," which got Wolfram a punch on the arm.

Without further ado, he motioned for Jonathan to come closer and he eyed the pair. "Let me explain something and I'll be perfectly plain about it." His green eyes went to Greta. "You, my dear, are under age and I will not allow any man to court you."

Greta opened her mouth to protest and he wagged a finger at her. "No one knows better than I do about reputations and, once lost, they can never be regained again." His eyes turned to the young chestnut-haired soldier and said, "I believe you will agree with me."

"Y-Yes, Lord Wolfram." He was really sticking his foot into it, but he knew that what his former commander said was absolutely true.

Greta glared and then looked to Yuuri for support. If she could, she'd pit Wolfram against Yuuri to get her way. She really felt old enough to be courted. What difference would 12 months make to come of age?

"On the other hand," the blond said as his tone relaxed, "I see no problem with Jonathan escorting you around the rose garden each day. He can be quite reliable as a personal guard. After all, I'm the one who trained him."

In a flash, Greta's smile was back and she exchanged hopeful glances with her beau.

"However," Wolfram said with an expression that so quickly changed to one so bloodthirsty that it made Yuuri recoil, "should you lead Greta off the path…even one foot astray…and I will know about it if it happens..." He extended his palm, snapped his fingers, and a ball of Hell-fire flame rotated threateningly within. "You will need every healer in Shin Makoku to keep you alive once I'm done."

"Papa Wolfram!" Greta shouted, horrified at his behavior. "Don't threaten him!"

His glare melted into a self-satisfied smile as the fireball dissipated. "Oh, don't think of it as a threat… so much as a dark promise." He glanced at a very pale Jonathan who was doing everything in his power not to run away. "He knows what I'm capable of… He used to work under me on the battlefield."

He stressed the last word and the young man nodded with a vigorous shake.

"Then, if we agree," Wolfram said is a surprisingly cheerful tone, "you two may walk together in the rose garden. Enjoy."

As the young couple strolled away with hissed bickering between them, for Greta felt that she was doing all the talking and Jonathan wasn't, Yuuri turned back with a sour look. "Wolfram, did you really have to do all of that?"

"Yes…yes, I did." He had a "cat just had his cream" expression. "And, believe me, I know what life is like in the barracks. Word will get around pretty quickly that Greta is not to be toyed with." And, with that, Wolfram leaned against the trunk of the apple tree with the baby in his lap. Zander stared at his father and then at Yuuri. The drama, whatever it was, was now over and he was bored. Zander threw down his bottle between the pair and watched to see what would happen.

"Want this back?" Yuuri asked, holding the baby bottle. Luckily, it had landed on the blanket and not the grass. Only a little milk had dripped out of the nipple.

"I think he wants Tinky," Wolfram explained, digging through the yellow and green diaper bag that Yuuri's mother bought him.

"Tinky?"

Wolfram pulled out a light brown leather ball and gave a shake. It made tink, tink, tink sounds and the baby, straight away, was more than intrigued. Pink eyes grew wide with the next shake. His uncoordinated, pudgy hands reached out for it.

Wolfram leaned in and rubbed noses with him.

Tink.

Tink.

"Play with this, little bunny." The sing-songy voice made the baby babble back a nonsensical answer.

Yuuri smiled at the "bunny" name. It was better than the "Zander" that he'd come up with.

"Wolf?"

"Hm?" Wolfram closed his eyes. The breeze felt good on his skin and he was sleepy. The baby had been fussy all night because of his teething. As of now, he had two bottom teeth and two top teeth—just like a bunny.

"Thanks for coming out here today…even though I didn't know that Greta was going to do this to us."

Eyes still closed, Wolfram smirked lazily. "What are friends for?"

Yuuri's ebony eyes widened. Friends? Wait, did you just say 'friends'? What happened to 'fiancés?' I'm just so used to you saying that.

The double black took in Wolfram's face. He wasn't lying or angry. In fact, he seemed peaceful.

Yuuri tugged uncomfortably at the black collar to his jacket.

Had Wolfram totally given up? Pulling away was one thing... It gave him some space, breathing room, which was a bit of a relief. But given up? His mind flashed back, searching for answers. What had he done differently? Nothing. But Wolfram certainly seemed different. And it was more than his body being older, more filled out, and his voice slightly deeper. It was as though something important had ended—not in a raging argument with fireballs and harsh accusations, but with just a simple shrug.

No goodbye.

Not even that much.

But, now dwelling on it, Yuuri could blame himself, too. All this time, he thought he only wanted to be friends, but… Black eyes turned to his companion. Why didn't he do something? Why didn't Wolfram simply come up to him and tell him what he'd done wrong? They could argue and he could apologize…get Wolfram to apologize, too, and then everything would be fine. Everything could go back to the way things were.

But, they didn't do that. And it wasn't fine. In fact, now that he looked back on it, things hadn't been for a long, long time.

Before Zander's birth.

At the ball.

In the hallway with the maid.

Step by step, Wolfram had moved on—moved past him—and continued on his own. After the baby's birth, Wolfram told him that he had to go it alone. Of course, he meant it. And, now, Wolfram, who was right next to him, never felt more distant.

Keeping the baby perched in his lap, the ex-prince relaxed against the trunk of the tree, his blond hair spilling down over his left shoulder in a rush of gold.

Zander shifted in Wolfram's lap—trying to shake the ball. Then, he lost it. Pink eyes narrowed at that. He made another grab.

Still feeling very much alone, Yuuri picked up the ball and handed it over to the baby. The child with skin the color of clouds smiled back at him with his diminutive version of Wolfram's face. The little baseball cap had long ago fallen away but the tiny Hanshin Tigers uniform was adorable. Every stitch was identical to the real thing.

Then, with both hands, he tried to push the ball in Yuuri's direction. It was a feeble attempt, dropping to the ground with an adorable "tink" which amused the baby greatly. He laughed and, then, tried to crawl from Wolfram's lap. Lacking the coordination to do so, he started to tumble until Yuuri caught him.

"Zander, be careful," Yuuri said lowly, trying not to wake up Wolfram. He was sleeping quietly next to him, head nodding every few seconds.

With a brief, clipped snore, Wolfram's head shifted. Now, it was resting against Yuuri's shoulder and, for once, the double black didn't feel awkward or threatened. Quite the opposite. It was reassuring that some part of Wolfram still wanted him, still wanted to be near him. He had missed them sharing the same bed and the smell of Wolfram's hair—sunflowers and lavender—was there, too, making him feel as though he'd finally come home.

"Y-u-u-r-i," the blond sighed, making the double black glance at him fondly. How long had it been since he said his name?

"Bah!"

A slight chuckle. "Wiggle worm…" Yuuri seated the baby in his lap and noticed that the pink eyes were smiling at him.

"Bah! Ba-a-a-a-a Bah!" He flapped his arms wildly and Yuuri tried to dodge them.

"And, you're strong, too!"

The baby leaned forward. "Bah! Ma…ma…mahh…MAH!" Pudgy, dimpled arms waved again excitedly. He was certainly going to tell the black-haired one who was holding him about everything that was going on. Zander jerked his little body for emphasis, legs kicking. Yes, his diaper was clean and he was in a good mood. The world needed to know about it.

"Let's find your ball…I mean, uh, Tink." He scanned around them quickly. "Gotta be here somewhere."

He still had the baby around the chest, fingers under the armpits—trying to hold onto Zander was a bit harder than he thought for such a young child.

Tiny hands found his cheeks. Pat. Pat. Pink eyes stared at him and his head slowly tilted to the right.

Yuuri smiled back.

Pink eyes grew closer…and closer…and flicked into snake-like slits.

"Whoa!" Yuuri shouted, turning his face away as he jerked—smacking the back of his head painfully against the tree in the process. He saw stars.

The baby squealed with glee, his hair lengthening and darkening from snow white to glossy black. The skin darkened, too, into Caucasian skin a few shades darker than Wolfram's.

"W-What's going on?!" It was like he was holding onto someone else's child.

A blue haze surrounded the baby. Zander squealed with delight, reaching a hand towards his bottle and giggling as the top popped off and a ribbon of milk wriggled from it.

High.

Low.

Twisting and winding down a path of its own making.

The smell of warm milk on the breeze.

"Yu…uri?" Wolfram groaned in frustration. "What are you two…?" Wolfram went on, hearing his son having such fun at such a high pitch and volume. It was irritating after the long night that he'd had. "I…uh…" He blinked tiredly. Then, in an instant, he was awake. He covered his open mouth with his hand, about to be sick. "What the Hell?!"

Yuuri was next to him, pressed against the tree trunk as the baby ( and he was certain it was his but the jet black hair was a shock) laughed in amusement. There was a blue haze surrounding him, pink slitted eyes, and something white and liquid hovering menacingly around them—wriggling.

"WHAT IS THIS?!" Wolfram demanded, passing his hand through the white ribbon in an effort to grab it and, just as quickly, retracting it. "It's hot!"

He flicked his wet hand and turned to Yuuri. "Get the baby away from it!"

Clutching the child to him, Yuuri scrambled. But Zander simply grinned his four-toothed-grin over the double black's shoulder as his hair faded in color and his snake slits became rounder and fuller. The blue haze faded into nothingness—which the baby found amusing, too. He tried to swat at it.

As though milk normally rained from the sky, the liquid ribbon fell to the blanket with a splash.

Wolfram tore a path to the two of them, snatched his son from Yuuri, and cradled him to his chest. "W-What happened? What's wrong with him?" Wolfram's voice was wet with tears and he was barely able to put two thoughts together. "Please…no more. I can't deal with anything else…"

Yuuri put a soothing hand on Wolfram's shoulder and suggested, "I think we need to take him to Shinou's Temple. Murata needs to know about this. Or, maybe, Ulrike can help." 

Eyes shining with tears, Wolfram seemed uncertain. But, half an hour later, as their carriage neared the temple, The Great Sage was already waiting for them at the gate.

He knew.


	3. Chapter 3

"We discover in others what others hide from us, and we recognize in others what we hide from ourselves."  
~ Vauvenargues  
.  
________________________________________  
.

 

Zander fussed in sharp tones as he was being placed on the white marble altar. For some reason, he seemed to have a faint memory of being in the room before and he sensed that his Papa, for whatever reason, was stressed.

The child turned his head and gave a deep, chibi pout at Ulrike as she undressed him.

"It's cold in here," Wolfram protested in an undertone. "He'll catch a chill."

"He'll be fine," Murata said pleasantly with his glasses flashing across his eyes, hiding his expression somewhat. "Besides, it won't last for long."

"What is…it exactly?" Wolfram asked, taking a half step towards his naked child. Instinct told him to pick up the baby and storm out. But, Yuuri put a hand on his shoulder again. "Let's just see, Wolf, what they can do."

From the corner of the room, Shinou's shadow appeared first before the rest of him. But, as the moon was not in the right position and his own energies diverted elsewhere, the Original King seemed transparent—a mere hologram of his former self.

"We are going to see this child's origins," the blond king explained with a flourish of his cape.

Wolfram's green eyes shifted right and left as he puzzled it out. "Origins? What origins? I don't understand."

"You soon will," quipped back Murata as he caught the baby's fairly decent attempt to roll over onto his tummy and, in the process, plummet to the stone floor. It was a good thing he had quick hands. Zander, on the contrary, squinched up his nose and took a long, long inhale.

"Oh, Hell," Wolfram groaned tiredly, sticking his fingers in his ears. He'd been through this before.  
Many times.

"Eh?" Perplexed, Yuuri stared at Wolfram until the siren—the sudden blast of sound that could be nothing other than a thoroughly pissed off Zander—hit his ears in the room sans carpet and, thus, the overwhelming echo which followed.

Everyone, other than Shinou, visibly trembled and fell back. Shinou simply folded his arms and enjoyed the show.

"W-o-l-f-r-a-m!" Yuuri shouted over the wails. Even though albino, the child was blood red in the face now.

"Wha-?" he asked dumbly. Fingers still in ears and he wasn't fool enough to take them out.

"WOLF!" Yuuri bellowed. "DO SOMETHING!"

"I am!"

"No, I mean, do something about him screaming! What's wrong with him?" Yuuri pointed to the babe who was now on his stomach, pushing away the thin blanket he was lying on, and legs flailing.

"Gee, Yuuri," Wolfram shot back sarcastically. "He's in a strange place, people are gawking at him, and his ass is cold!" Wolfram made a sour face that mirrored his son's to perfection. "And, believe me, if you were in his place, you'd scream your lungs out, too!"

And having just about enough of it, Wolfram stomped his way to the altar with every intention of picking his son up but stopped when his child stared at him bemusedly but with tears hanging onto his lashes.

Wolfram took the fingers out of his ears. "Papa's funny, huh?"

The baby thought about it and reached out his pudgy little hands. Up, up… He wanted his father to pick him up.

"Good, now that he's calm," the sage quickly jumped in, "let's start!" He waved his right hand over an obsidian amulet covered in tarnish that he had clutched in his palm. It was faceted and sparkled with an unearthly aura. Drawing energy into himself, he released it at the base of the altar. A shaking, silvery glow materialized around the baby—eventually making what appeared to be a semi-solid sphere as Wolfram stood back and fretted. He couldn't help himself. Sometimes, all logic, dignity, and decorum were lost when it came to his child's safety.

"So, let's see…" Shinou hummed while eyeing the child who had managed to push himself up a little onto his forearms. There was a pinkish cloud forming in the sphere while the baby, still lying on his tummy, kicked his feet through the rolling, billowing plumes.

"What is that strange mist?" Yuuri asked Murata.

"That's the miscast spell," he answered, stroking his chin in thought. "When bringing in an element from the outside, as that spell had tried to do, there's always an organic component."

"It won't hurt him, will it?" Wolfram said, visibly shaken.

"These are just images of what was," Shinou told Wolfram kindly. The Original King had once been a parent, too. And, even though he left most of the nagging over his three children to his strong-willed wife, he still had memories of a family life and could relate to a father's concerns.

"Look!" Yuuri pointed. "There's something…"

In much the same way that Shinou had materialized in the room earlier, a new shadow took shape within the sphere. Behind Zander was an image of Wolfram as he was now—hair long and blond with stray curls framing sad eyes of an emerald green. But, too quickly, the figure faded. Wolfram reappeared, but as he was before all of this started. His hair was short and his features lithe and boyish. The green eyes held passion and purpose—hope, even, before life had taught him differently. Yuuri, seeing the dramatic difference and knowing, as Gissela had told him, that the blond would never revert back to his more youthful self, ached a little inside. Missing him.  
"Well, that was a little unexpected," Murata mused, head tilted curiously to the side as he studied the scene.

Another form quickly took shape. It stood shoulder to shoulder with Wolfram's image. The hair was dark and long. The shoulders were wide and the face, unmistakably The Maou's. He smirked out at his audience with eyes in black slits.

"That's…!" Yuuri didn't know what to say other than "Oh, wow…"

"The Maou?" Murata said and quickly turned to Wolfram. This was starting to make sense. "Tell me, at any time, back in the beginning… Did The Maou touch you?"

That took Wolfram's breath away and he visibly colored a deep, dark red. Even his ears and neck were blushed. "He…He was always perfect gentleman!" the blond defended. "He never would have…" Wolfram shook his head hard. "I mean, he'd never…!"

There was a sudden battle aura surrounding Wolfram stemming from embarrassment.

"N-No!" Murata jumped in. "What I mean is… After they tried to cast the spell on you… Did The Maou physically touch you with his hands…even to brush the elixirs off of you?" He had his hands out in defensive fashion, backing up just in case the blond wasn't in the mood to listen.

Wolfram thought back on it and, then, suddenly covered his mouth with his hand. "Yes…yes he did." The ex-prince glanced around the room and added, "I asked him to heal me and he said that this was something that couldn't be healed."

Shinou nodded. "It's impossible to heal a healthy living creature."

"Wait! Are you saying…he knew?" Wolfram spat angrily. "He knew and didn't tell me?!"

Murata shrugged at that. "Possibly… Then again, it might not have been his place to be the one to tell you. Or, if Alexander had died early on, you wouldn't have a need to grieve." He turned to give a contemplative view of the child in the sphere. "Should he die now…?"

"Shut your mouth!" Wolfram barked out and a fireball formed into his hand, itching to be thrown. It was bad luck to say such things. Even The Great Sage, in his opinion, was not excused.

"That's enough," The Original King said, pointing a finger at Wolfram's fireball and dissolving it in an instant.

Wolfram blinked at his palm. Only a black puff of smoke remained and it smelled of burnt oranges. He curled a lip at that.

"Wait! Look!" Yuuri turned back to the images as the others did likewise and, to their surprise, The Maou's features faded into Yuuri's.

"It's…me…" he breathed.

Murata pushed his glasses up on his nose with his middle finger. "Well, that would seem natural since you and your other self share the same body. We're talking genes after all."  
Yuuri folded his arms across his chest and could do little more than gape. "A…son? I have a son?" It felt strange to know it. It seemed so unreal and unlikely that he'd ever have a son. True, he'd imagined it when he thought of his long-term future. But, there was his plan. Well, sort of. He'd meet a nice girl. The girl would become "girlfriend" and "girlfriend" would become "fiancé." "Fiancé" would become "wife." They'd be married for a few years and, later, they'd discuss having children—maybe, three or four, if they could afford it.  
But, he had a child with Wolfram. And that child, for all intents and purposes, just wielded the contents of his baby bottle.

Wolfram placed his hands on his hips, turning a little away from everyone. He only turned back when he saw the sparkle of a fire burning to the baby's right and water flowing to the baby's left.

"Fire and water?" Shinou said, surprised. "Two elements? That's rare, indeed."

"Really?" Yuuri asked, wanting to know more about his child.

"But, it's not necessarily a good thing," Murata clarified. "Generally, those who wield two elements are only moderately good at both. 'Fire' and 'water' tend to cancel each other out. Because of that, I would suggest Alexander be trained in the ways of the sword."

Yuuri grinned back and said, "He still managed to wield milk and make it hot. So, that's got to be rare, huh?"

Murata laughed at him. "Yes, he'll go down in history as the great milk wielder and everyone will be impressed."

Yuuri laughed at his friend's joke. "Well, I'm impressed. Aren't you, Wolf?" Yuuri asked, now turning to Wolfram for the first time.

He truly thought that the blond would be happy. They'd, by accident, had a child together—something men couldn't ordinarily do. It was a miracle and they were incredibly lucky. However, Yuuri was stunned to see Wolfram's reaction. It was as though something was taken away from him. His green eyes shined with tears. He seemed lost.  
The sphere burst with a single, deep-toned pop and the baby giggled at it.

Wolfram, in two quick strides, took the clothes off the floor and began to dress the baby. Shirt, clean diaper, trousers—one after the other. "You'll really need a bath and some clean jam-jams, huh?" he went on conversationally, working hard to keep his voice steady. His heart. It was beating too fast. He had to calm himself down and put the baby's socks on one at a time. Yes, that followed by the shoes. Block everything else out. Think of only this and getting through this moment.

"Yes, I suppose Prince Alexander needs a bath," Murata baited. He knew he was doing it, too, but wanted to see the results.

"Prince?" Wolfram said, holding the baby and not bothering to turn around.

"Well…yeah." Yuuri tried to be cheerful about it. This was, after all, very good news. "I'm king. So, that makes him…"

"Illegitimate," Wolfram interrupted as he repositioned the child in his arms to a more comfortable position.

"Eh?" Yuuri blinked.

The blond darted his eyes away. Did he really need to state the obvious? "His parents aren't married. So, he can't be a prince." Wolfram's face grew hard. "In history, all of the illegitimate children of monarchs become minor nobles at best. A few have become war heroes, but never princes."

This was so basic, so obvious.

"Well," Yuuri hedged. "We're almost married…" Shouldn't that have been good enough? He certainly thought so.

"Almost?" Honestly, Wolfram wanted to smack him. (But not in front of the baby.)

"I mean…we're gonna get married…" The double black shifted his shoulders uncomfortably when he said it and he pretended that splotch of candle wax on the floor was terribly interesting. "I mean, we have him. So, I guess we really should."

"So, I get you by default," Wolfram muttered under his breath, his heart hardening.

"What did you say, Wolf?" Yuuri asked innocently.

Wolfram shook his head. "We don't need to," he said with sincerity. "We have a bond…through Alexander…which is deeper than any marriage. We're connected for the rest of our lives through him." With a swish of his blond ponytail, Wolfram turned and made his way for the exit. "I'm content to stay as we are. I can live with this."

"But, I thought you wanted…" Black eyes looked at him in confusion. This just didn't make any sense. He thought that the blond would use any excuse for them to marry.  
Wolfram turned slightly at the door and frowned at him. "What I want…is to go back to the castle…now."

________________________________________

 

Wolfram, taking over from the Night Nanny for a few minutes before going to bed, had Zander in his arms. They sat in the rocking chair by the window with the curtain drawn and the cool night air slipping in through a narrow crack.

"It's been a busy day, huh?"

The baby, feeling content and drowsy against his father's chest, listened to the rumbling of his voice, a kind of music all its own.

"So, we found out your other parent is Yuuri." He closed his eyes in frustration at that. Wolfram knew he no longer called the shots. He'd have to co-parent. Tougher yet, he'd have to share time with the wimpy-wimp—including picnics on a whim and sudden disappearances to Earth.

The ex-prince rocked the baby a little more.

"It's…umm…It's not that I'm not fond of your other father." Wolfram patted the child's back lightly. He got a bubbly little milk belch out of the child and raised an eyebrow at it. He decided to go on. "I more than like your father. In fact, I care for him very much, very deeply. But, that's something I'll never say. Not now. Not anymore."

Through the window, the first stars of sunset were beginning to shine.

"Someday, when you're older, I'll tell you about 'loving' someone and 'being in love.' There's a difference." Softly, he patted the baby's back again. "And once you fully understand it, maybe you can translate it to me." He chuckled at his joke.

"Bah…Mahh…Ahhh…" Zander's voice was soft and soothing.

Wolfram rocked the baby and said, "Thanks for that vote of confidence."

________________________________________

If Yuuri only suspected that Wolfram was avoiding him before, it was more than obvious that he was doing so now. The blond kept mostly to himself—managing his personal affairs, holdings, and finances in his room. He spent time doing research in the library for his Uncle Waltorana. Apparently, there was an obscure reference to a Bielefeld during the reign of the ninth maou who was a healer and a fire wielder in the Mazoku Army. In Waltorana's vague and half-hearted letter of apology for not accepting Alexander as a member of the family, he requested a historian at the castle do the research. Finding more time on his hands than he was comfortable with, Wolfram simply did the research himself. Add to the fact, the topic interested him and he could spend time alone in the library without being bothered if everybody knew.

And he made sure they did—sitting in the clear line of sight at the doorway when he knew Yuuri was in lessons with Günter. Wolfram also told his mother. So, quickly, word got around.

________________________________________

 

"Why me?" he complained under his breath. Wolfram entered the door with feelings of dread. Did he really need to come in here? He'd done such a good job of avoiding the maou's office for almost two months. So, why was he ordered to come? Stupid, stupid, stupid. He rolled his eyes inwardly.

"Glad you could make it," Gwendal grumped the moment he saw Wolfram.

The blond was, as usual, wearing his casual clothes—a light blue shirt, black belt, and tan trousers.

He blinked at his brother's rudeness but said nothing in return, only putting his hands in his pockets with a slight frown to show he really didn't care either way. The long blond hair cascaded over his left shoulder.

"And don't you think it's time to get a haircut?" Gwendal asked, eyeing his brother and not liking what he was seeing. Wolfram looked so much better in uniform with short hair.  
"I will if you will." Wolfram shrugged but the slight glare was defiant.

Conrad, standing next to Gwendal, shifted on his feet a little. He could see where this was heading.

Wolfram, then, turned his attention to Yuuri. The young maou was sweat dropping and wondering how he got caught in this power struggle between the brothers so quickly.

Wolfram bowed politely to Yuuri.

"So sorry I'm late!" Günter said as he entered the room with a clipboard and an odd kind of skip-run which made his cape twirl.

Then, it hit him. There seemed to be a strange aura in the room, and he scratched his head in confusion. He only made them wait for a little bit. They should just forgive him and move on.

"We're here to talk about the Battle of Flowers," Gwendal explained, not waiting for Günter to start. "And, since you're almost never around, we've called this late meeting." Gwendal made direct eye contact with Wolfram who only took a seat without being offered it and slouched down. He crossed his legs in a figure four.

Yuuri looked curious. "Battle? Flowers?"

Wolfram turned his head to Günter. He'd let the most flowery among them give an explanation.

"It's actually a parade, not a true battle," the advisor said with pride. "It happens once every ten years…beginning with a party with the nobles at the castle and ending with the guests parading from the castle to the village square."

Yuuri nodded. He'd overheard servants in the castle talking about a parade for over two weeks. Greta had mentioned it too, but his mind had been on other things—namely Wolfram and Alexander and wondering what they were doing at that moment.

Still the parade sounded like fun. Maybe, he could use this party as an opportunity to get together with Wolfram. They'd have the first dance and, possibly, drink some wine together. He would definitely not let the blond stand alone in the corner of the room holding their baby. Even before he knew that Alexander was his son, he'd promised himself that much.

He never wanted to see that look in Wolfram's eyes again. It was 'goodbye.'

Günter carried on—still in his flowery dream world—with "Oh, so lively… The pipes playing…so many swirling colors and happy people," hands clasped to his chest in his usual melodramatic fashion.

"Yes, and the maou has to crown a Flower Queen," Wolfram added and Yuuri was mentally "thumped" back into reality at the words. Face by face, black eyes turned to everyone in the room, questioning if this was the truth.

"You have to," Wolfram reiterated in a bored tone, "at the party. You have to choose a Flower Queen among the female guests." What the blond had left out was the historical fact that maous tended to take a fancy to the women long after the Battle of Flowers was over with—sometimes as concubines and sometimes as Official Royal Mistresses. It depended on how high ranking the noble woman's family was in Shin Makoku.

There was often a crude "deflowered" reference to those "chosen," as well. So, yes, there was a down side to being picked.

Wolfram wondered vaguely if Günter or Gwendal would enlighten him.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room and Wolfram laughed at Yuuri inwardly. Boy, was he in for it because the women at the party would certainly know. Then, his mind ran along another track. While Yuuri was off evaluating the female form, Wolfram decided he was going to enjoy himself, let go of his bitterness a little bit, and dance with anyone who asked. He'd been sad inside for so long that it was becoming a part of him—what "normal" was—and his face was beginning to show it. A smile was starting to appear unnatural. But, that seemed only appropriate as Alexander was now fully accepted by the citizens of Shin Makoku as Yuuri's son. And that felt unfair on some level…just because he was the maou's son. Was being Wolfram's son not good enough?  
A blessing and a curse.

"Unfair," Wolfram whispered to himself only to meet the eyes of everyone in the room.

"Um…what was that Wolf?" Yuuri asked. He'd been watching Wolfram space out as Günter waxed poetical about the people of Shin Makoku being lined up along the parade route with different types of flowers to toss at the road for them to tread on.

Thinking quickly, the blond crossed his arms against his chest and glared at Günter. "I was saying that it was 'unfair' that I be here and be involved in one of Yuuri's lessons on our culture. You had more than enough time to do that during the day." Then, with a sly look, he added, "What do you teach him at those times anyway?"

Yuuri chuckled nervously with a hand behind his head—not wanting anyone to be insulted. "That's a bit harsh, Wolf. Let's be nice here, huh?"

"So, explain to me why I'm here, then," Wolfram repeated as he turned back to Günter.

The lilac haired man glanced down at his clip board, pursing his lips. Little Lord Brat was really getting to him this evening and it had been a long day already. Even his lilac hair was drooping. "In ten days…Wearing formal attire, you and Heika—as fiancés—are supposed to arrive at the Grand Ballroom at exactly eight on the dot. You will both be announced. Please mingle among the guests. And, exactly fifteen minutes later, the two of you will share the first dance…a waltz called…"

"The Road We Traveled," Wolfram interrupted. It was the traditional "first waltz" at this event. He looked to Gwendal and added, "This was the song my mother and father danced to at their wedding reception."

Gwendal nodded sternly. He remembered the day well and had felt a pang of betrayal as his mother looked up into her groom's eyes with total adoration. It made him angry to see her settle for someone when her heart and soul still belonged to Dan Hiri Weller.

Then, he turned to Wolfram. His blond baby brother was so different now. Maybe, he "settled," too, just like their mother. The fire and passion were gone—replaced with a laisser-faire attitude and, more often than not, just "attitude." Wolfram was a devoted parent, a kind master to his servants, and a respectful son to his mother. However, he kept everyone else at arm's length or the "Conrad Treatment" as Gwendal often thought of it.

Gwendal glanced at Yuuri. He had no doubts who was to blame. He was sitting right here.

Twenty minutes later, everyone had filed out of the room. Wolfram tried to make himself the last one, but noticed that Yuuri was hanging around, too. He probably wanted some sort of reassurance that this important party would go smoothly and that everything would be okay. In the past, when Yuuri felt like this, Wolfram would fuss over him while straightening his collar, call him a "wimp," and then remind him that they'd be together. He'd see everything through with him. They were a team.  
And what did Wolfram get in return? …Nothing.

But things had changed and, possibly, Yuuri didn't notice. The problem was that Wolfram had other things to think about, and only going through the motions was a priority now.  
Such was the life of a noble.

Yuuri would just have to adjust without the hand holding.

"Wolf?" the double black said.

Wolfram stopped and turned back to look at him. "Yes?"

Yuuri tugged at his collar. "You're um…" He was wondering how to phrase this. "You're not…uh…mad at me, are you?" The double black took a half step in Wolfram's direction. "I mean… I can't help us going to the party and that I've got to pick a queen and stuff…"

Then, the double black cringed. Pick a queen? Why did he blurt it out like that?

The blond glanced away, hiding something akin to melancholy. "It's nothing to worry about, Yuuri. Just go and enjoy yourself. I'll meet you at the doors to the Grand Ballroom right before eight."

Yuuri scratched the back of his head a little, embarrassment creeping up. "I…uh…thought it would be fun to pick you and Alexander up at your door…Your room, ya know?"  
Wolfram shook his head "no." This wouldn't do. "Alexander is teething. It would be best for him to stay with his night nanny during the Battle of Flowers. A fussy baby draws a lot of attention and can take all of the fun out of an event. Do we really want to force other people to hear our child yowl?"

"Oh, I see…" Yuuri looked down and Wolfram felt guilty at that. Why was it that he had to be the "strict" parent—the one who set rules? He could already tell that Yuuri was going to be the "fun" parent.

Life sucked royally.

"But, I'll tell you what..."

The double black looked at him curiously.

"You can spend the whole day with him tomorrow. Would that be okay? I'll tell the day nanny."

This should have been good enough, Wolfram thought. Why was trying to be "fair" so hard?

"Well, why can't you come, too?" the double black asked. He really thought it would be good for the three of them to be together. Spending time together would be the best way for them to get back on track.

"I have some plans," Wolfram lied. There was nothing he couldn't set aside. But, he truly didn't want it to seem that he'd just drop everything when Yuuri chose to have him around.

"Oh, I see…"

Wolfram made his way for the door. Without looking back, he said, "Good luck with Alexander. He's teething and his teething diapers reek—something akin to pungent feces mixed with rotting garbage. The day nanny's used to it, but I'm not so sure you will be." And, with a chuckle, he disappeared down the hallway.

"Pungent feces?" Yuuri blinked at that. "Are you trying to tell me it smells bad?"

He supposed so.

But, after all, Zander was just a little baby. How bad could it be?

________________________________________

 

The next day, Wolfram stood out on the balcony off of the Grand Ballroom. Yes, he was curious. No doubt about it.

Under the apple tree, he could make out the form of Yuuri with, now that he craned his head, baby Alexander in his lap. Next to them, sitting on a teak chair brought in just for this occasion, was Grandma Kate. The elderly Mazoku woman seemed to be knitting a long, yellow scarf, prattling away as she did so.

Always a chatterbox.

Alexander was sucking on his bottle, cheeks full. The bottles from Earth are amazing, Wolfram thought, but not more amazing than the breast pump that Jennifer insisted on buying and giving to them. The wet nurse, of course, freaked when told what it was and how it was used. Anissina, on the other hand, saw it as a way of freeing breastfeeding women so that they could pursue other issues. Once there was no longer a need for the gadget, the inventor wanted possession of it and Wolfram easily agreed.

"Oh, my god! Zander!" Yuuri shouted, backing away but still holding the smiling baby at arm's length. "THE SMELL!"

He was gagging.

Even from where he stood, Wolfram could see Yuuri fighting for breath, head thrashing. He seemed to be crying, too. A river poured down his face.

Wolfram covered a laugh with his hand—doubled over and chuckled so hard that it hurt. He muffled "Wimp!" over and over again, turning red.

It had been years since he'd laughed that hard.

He took a peek over the vine-covered railing and then snorted.

Yuuri was begging the day nanny to take the baby. The diaper was full and a big, bulbous lump was sagging in the bottom of it.

"THE SMELL! UGH! IT'S LIKE SOMETHING DIED IN THERE!"

Wolfram, running out of air, gasped and then laughed his way back inside the castle. Yuuri deserved it. He totally did.

Now, if Alexander could just spit up separated milk on him a little. That would be perfect!

________________________________________

 

Even though he wouldn't be taking command of his elite guard for another month, Wolfram still had business to take care of. "How could I forget Gwendal's report?" Wolfram complained as he hastened to his older brother's office. His boots clicked hard on the floor as he went. Well, actually, he had a very good idea of what distracted him. Then, an impish smile found its way onto his face. But… watching Yuuri's antics fifteen minutes ago...so much fun! I wish I could assign him to diaper duty permanently.

He shook his head. But enough of that. Back to business. "Still… If I want more budget money next year, I've got to get this turned in now." The papers fluttered as he marched along.

A noise.

There was something…something kind of…off.

In spite of everything, he slowed to a stop.

Waiting.

Listening.

Something?

The sound of rushing water in the bath met Wolfram's ears. In theory, he shouldn't have been able to hear it this well even though he was passing the maou's private bath.  
It just seemed peculiar.

"Wolfram!" Yuuri called from behind and the blond rolled sighed inwardly. Why did they keep meeting like this?

The blond turned in the direction of the voice and tried to rearrange his features into a bland expression. "Yes?"

With a sudden jerk, Yuuri stopped. He was breathing a little hard. "I saw you way back there and I've been trying to catch up ever since." He doubled over, placing his hands on his knees. "It's a good thing I jog a lot, huh?" he huffed.

Wolfram stood stiffly with the ten page report cradled against his chest. What more could he do? And this report really needed to be turned in. Gwendal wasn't the type to wait. What if he just got fed up and assigned the same budget as last year?

"Something?" he asked a bit impatiently.

Yuuri's dark eyes widened. "Oh…Oh, yeah…" Then, he smiled the goofy smile that always seemed to melt Wolfram's heart. The blond looked at his feet and tried to will the feeling away.  
It would do him no good. Giving in to that always made things worse. Always.

"I just wanted you to know that the baby and I went to hang out under the old apple tree and…he…uhh…"

Now, Wolfram struggled to suppress a grin. Say it… Come on, Yuuri. Tell me that the baby took a colossal dump and you couldn't handle a teething diaper.

The sound of rushing water got louder. And louder.

A sudden rush. A stream splashed out from under the door—spreading everywhere.

"Eh?!" they both said at once as the door to the baths burst open. It slammed into the wall and the soaked remains hung uselessly from the top hinge. Grandma Kate's desperate, panicked old crone voice came to the forefront just as a blue-white wave of water gushed past a very astonished Yuuri and Wolfram.

"Baby, no!" the old woman shouted, hitching up her drenched skirts.

But the wave only built up and curved.

A squeal of delight hit a deafening pitch as Alexander, surfing along with it on his tummy, bare butt in the air, turned sharply.

The child's passing glance was with slitted pink eyes and his hair was swiftly turning from salt-n-pepper to a shiny, wet black.

The wave continued down the hall.

"Alexander!" Wolfram shouted, now running as hard as he could after his child. "Stop, baby!" He tossed the report—pages flying, drifting, falling. On the floor, they hit the wet stones and the blue ink spread and faded beyond all legibility.

"Whoa!" Yuuri said, following his son and fiancé. "How did he learn to do that?" He jumped over a puddle and continued on.

Wha-? Yuuri sounded so impressed. What an idiot! Flashed through Wolfram's mind and a deep scowl followed. Wolfram almost slipped and fell on a slick spot. The knee high boots didn't have much traction. "You're asking me? You're the water wielder! This is entirely your fault!"

"E-h-h-h?!" The double black caught up to Wolfram, elbows pumping hard. "How can you blame me for this?" he huffed.

The wave kept moving and the castle's servants who were unfortunate enough to be in the way plastered themselves against the walls to avoid the water.

Wolfram sliced an angry look at Yuuri. "Mazoku babies don't do this kind of thing! Ever!" Wolfram griped between hard, puffy pants. "It's you…and your maou form…and I…!" The blond could feel himself starting slow down. As much adrenaline as he had pumping through him, he knew that his body wouldn't last forever. "And I…" He shook his head hard, blond hair tossing. "I WANT MY BABY BACK!"

Yuuri understood and gave a brief nod. He wanted Alexander back safe and sound, too. He knew that he could empathize with what Wolfram was going through. He was going through the same thing himself right now: worried, frantic, and heart drumming in his chest…

He glanced at Wolfram's profile. But, maybe, the blond was a bit more panicked—not thinking clearly. At least, not the way he usually was when acting like a soldier.

"Maa-a-a-a Bah…Eeeeeeeeee!" Squealed back at them.

Alexander was having a grand old time.

The baby's arms were spread out wide, tummy surfing at a higher speed—seeing how fast he could go.

The hot water against the cold stone floor left steam behind in its wake. Down the hallway, maids were grabbing mops and buckets to sop up the mess with. Several soldiers took it upon themselves to join in the chase once they realized what was going on. And, now, with the tramping feet, it sounded like a stampede.

More laughter from the baby was tearing at Wolfram's heart. On the one hand, he was terrified that the baby would hit a wall or something sharp in the hallway. On the other hand, the baby wasn't worried—which ticked Wolfram off to no end. It was that carefree, endless wonder that Yuuri was famous for. Damn, if Alexander hadn't inherited that trait. And Yuuri would pay dearly, some how, for all of this.

When Wolfram lost sight of the wave, he followed the water trail in the hallway. "The Grand Ballroom," Wolfram huffed to himself. That was where this would end up if the baby didn't turn into an open broom closet or down the east hallway.

Wolfram kept running.

The gigantic ballroom would be empty and, maybe, the French doors would open to…

Wolfram's mind had a sudden flash of vision. "The balcony!"

He'd go over the side in an instant!

Wolfram forced his body to move faster and, after turning a blind corner, he saw the wave up ahead of him.

"Oi, I think he's headed to…" Yuuri began.

"I'm already ahead of you," the blond huffed. An idea had come to him. Still running as fast as his legs would allow, Wolfram stretched out his palm and forced a small but bright fireball into his hand.

Black eyes widened in fear. "Wolf! Wait! You can't do that!" Yuuri shouted, now just half a step behind and to his left side. "You'll burn the baby! Is that what you want?"

Okay, Yuuri knew that was cruel to say, but he had to get Wolfram's attention. Clearly, he wasn't thinking or he'd never have done this. Maybe, he'd gone into soldier-mode and just allowed his instincts to take over.

"Your Majesty," Wolfram gritted out bitterly as he pitched the fireball at the ceiling, burning the thin leather bands which held up the official flag of Shin Makoku to the archway directly over the entrance to the Grand Ballroom—making it fall on top of the baby like an oversized blanket, "it's obvious that you don't trust me."

Wolfram, breathing hard and still so angry that steam was radiating off of him, stormed over to the massive pond that was once a wave and wrestled the baby from his new toy—the damp flag—and wrapped up the naked, now white haired, child in it.

He turned to the double black. "You are a prat…a king-sized prat!" He narrowed his eyes. "And, for the record, I would never harm my child!" He growled lowly, "How dare you!"  
Yuuri was taken aback. "Wolf…I…Uh…I didn't mean to…Uh…" He stammered uselessly.

That was it. "You always 'don't mean to'" the blond fumed back and he placed the baby against his shoulder. "Worse yet, every time you 'don't mean to' do something, everybody lets you off the hook! Everybody! And, why is that? Because you're the maou! They won't correct you."

And, with that, Wolfram turned on his heel and headed back for the nursery. Over his shoulder, a drenched Alexander pointed at Yuuri and said, "m-a-o-u."

They marched down the hallway, avoiding maids with mops. Though, the blond did kick one bucket out of his way as he went, denting it. And it felt good to do it.

After a few more marched steps, Wolfram found himself slowing down—calming down. The adrenaline rush was gone and he was feeling worn-out. A headache was creeping up on him, too. He'd probably need to take something.

"Ma….o….u…"

"Hm? What was that Alexander?" the blond murmured, now worried that his outburst had upset his child. "I'm sorry. I missed that one."

Not that he expected an intelligent answer.

"Bah…mah…how…mahooo…"

Wolfram smiled to himself sadly and rubbed wet white hair. "Yeah, I think we should get you into some dry clothes, too. What a smart boy you are."

"Bah-ha…bah!" Which in "Zander talk" was "Yes, Papa. I am a smart boy."

Meanwhile, Yuuri stood rooted to the spot where he stood. "Wait. Was his first word…maou?"

And, thus, began a new problem for Yuuri.


	4. Chapter 4

"Happiness lies neither in vice nor in virtue;  
but in the manner we appreciate the one and the other…"  
~Vauvenargues  
.  
________________________________________  
.

 

The double black let twenty minutes pass. He actually timed it with his watch. Usually, Wolfram would begin to get over his "mad" in about that time. And, typically, he couldn't stay angry at him much longer than that because…

The double black glanced away. It was hard to admit, but Yuuri knew it in his heart. It was love, fondness, affection, and a host of other words describing their one-sided relationship—one that he knew he kept going, kept encouraging indirectly by doing nothing, looking sheepish and embarrassed, and cheerfully avoiding the obvious whenever he could.

But now… 

Now, Wolfram's feelings seemed to be changing along with his new life with Zander. And, these days, he never really knew where he stood.

Were they fiancés or ex-fiancés?

Wolfram didn't seem to care anymore. And that bothered him.

They were most certainly parents. Even if it happened in an unlikely way, they did have that common bond. Wolfram had pointed that part out back at the temple.

And Zander…

Yuuri could see himself when his son wielded magic—and at such a young age, too! He smiled proudly at that thought. Yet, the majority of the time, he could see Wolfram in their son. The face was white as a sheet, but it was unmistakably a chibi form of Wolfram's—the same pouts, smiles, and frowns. And there would be no guesswork as to who the child would resemble when he got older. Zander was, clearly, his father's son.

And they can both be impossible at times, he thought wearily.

Yuuri rounded a corner and stopped before Wolfram's door. It was open a crack and had looked as though it had been smacked into the frame hard enough to bounce back without closing properly. The door's position, now that he gave it more than a passing glance, would need to be readjusted on the hinges. Then again, the doors to their bedroom had to be fixed repeatedly over the years, too. So, he knew the signs.

With an inward sigh, Yuuri pushed back the bedroom door just a bit more and peeked hesitantly inside. A bit more. A bit more…leaning in. Then, he smiled broadly as he finally let himself in.

Beautiful, he reflected.

Wolfram was sound asleep on the bed with a mint green pajama-clad Alexander cuddled in his arms. Wolfram's long hair cascaded like a wash of gold and his body curled inward slightly. But Wolfram's face seemed troubled (which Yuuri didn't like at all). And a frown tugged at the fire wielder's lips.

Wrapped securely in his Papa's arms, Zander turned his small head and regarded the double black. There was a seriousness in his expression that Yuuri didn't think possible in a baby. "Ah…bah…maou!" He pointed a chubby finger at Yuuri.

Yuuri looked away uncomfortably. "Not 'maou,' Zander… It's 'Daddy,' right?" he said gently.

The baby stretched his tiny body out lengthwise, curled inwards towards his Papa's warmth, and blinked slowly at him. "Maou."

Yuuri walked over to the foot of the bed and sat on it. "I guess…we'll have to work on that one, huh?" Then, he turned his gaze to Wolfram. "Maybe, we'll have to work on a lot of things…"

The baby razzed at him.

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?" Yuuri soured.

The baby nuzzled sweetly into Wolfram but glared at the dark haired intruder. He belched a good, solid milk belch. Even Yozak would have been impressed by that one.

"That's what I thought," Yuuri sighed.

 

________________________________________

 

"Say 'Daddy,' Zander." Yuuri tickled the baby under his chin. He was sitting in his high chair in the nursery as Grandma Kate, the Day Nanny, spooned him a bite of mashed potatoes.

Wolfram sat in the back on the room, slouched in a brown leather chair and boots resting on top of a rather large stack of books written by Anissina called the "Baby's First Reader" series. Much to his relief, they were mostly picture books about plants and animals in Shin Makoku. Of course, he scoffed openly at the "Parenting Basics" book that she'd written—seeing herself as an authority on parenting when she'd never raised children annoyed him somewhat. So, he kept that one on top to put his feet on.

"'D-a-d-d-y,' Zander! Come on…You can say it!"

"This is a profound waste of your time," Wolfram grumbled, arms folded.

"I know he can say it," Yuuri countered. "He's talked. He's done it before."

"I would have noticed," the blond said, ending it with an openly bored groan.

Yuuri turned around, irritated, but then decided to try another tactic to keep the peace. He would have to try harder if he was going to keep his Shin Makoku family intact. As it was, things were falling apart. And only an idiot does the same thing every day and expects different results.  
Best to start at the beginning.

"You know, Wolf, I did apologize for what I said about the fireball and the baby and everything." He took steps toward Wolfram, his expression sincere. "And the truth is… I didn't know what you were going to do. There was no time for you to tell me, either." He knelt down next to Wolfram's chair. "I'm just grateful that he's not hurt. And I think we can both agree on that."

Slowly, the ex-prince nodded. It was true, but it didn't make things perfect between them.

Yuuri stood, his hands in his pockets. He watched Grandma Kate pick up the messy baby and tote him into the next room. Zander was now sporting a mashed potatoed mohawk of his own making. Too bad Grandma Kate hadn't wiped his chubby little hands quickly enough after he dove into the bowl.

"Just curious," he began and turned back to Wolfram, "what happened to your wet nurse? Do you not need her anymore?"

Wolfram shrugged restlessly at that question, eyes flicking to the door where the nanny and Alexander had just gone through, and slid his feet off the stack of books. Usually, Mazoku lordlings kept their wet nurses much longer than this. However, Gissela said that it was okay to switch to solid foods and cow's milk. So, that was what they did.  
Yuuri felt irritation prick him again. "Look, Wolf. I may not be Shin Makoku's leading authority on parenting, but I'd like to be kept in the loop when it comes to our son. In future…"

"She confessed to me," Wolfram broke in. The expression was a mixture of annoyance and defensiveness. Yuuri had a habit of making assumptions when he didn't know the whole story and it pissed him off. He was going to get around to this topic once the nanny left the room. Talking about this in front of a servant—even one so important as Grandma Kate—would be bad form.

Yuuri blinked. "E-Excuse me?"

Wolfram narrowed his green eyes. How blunt would he have to be before Yuuri caught on? "Alexander's wet nurse… She told me she loved me and wanted to be by my side…to be my mistress…or the next Lady von Bielefeld if I so wished." The hand at his side made a tight fist. "But considering her social standing, she knew from the start that the most she could really hope for would be a mistress."

Yuuri's face held that "Oh Hell!" expression that almost made Wolfram forget his resentment and laugh out loud. But the situation wasn't funny—not really.

"So, what did you do?"

No sooner than he'd asked the question, Yuuri's mind flashed to the countless times he'd seen Wolfram and the wet nurse together in the hallway. Now that he looked back on it, the signs were all there. She was always smiling, brushing back her platinum hair coyly. She'd walk with the baby in her arms and weave, just a little, to be next to him—giving the impression that they were a couple. She was fair of face, slim-waisted, fat breasted, and had a charming little laugh. Her words were always respectful and kind—easily deferring to Wolfram's sometimes overprotective wishes. Had they been on Earth, she would have easily been mistaken for a cheerful young wife.

"She's not the first to offer to be my lover…and probably won't be the last." Wolfram's green eyes turned to the past, remembering. "But I don't want that from people and…" He folded his arms against his chest again, his body in a defensive posture. "I wish they'd stop… Honestly, I do."

"Well…uh…considering how we are…" Yuuri said awkwardly, a roundabout reference to their engagement "…I'm surprised that…"

Wolfram chuckled at that with derision and the double black didn't miss it. It got his attention.

"Yuuri, it's exactly because of 'how we are' that people offer." He stepped up to the double black and faced him fully. "It's the same for you when you go to the dances, the dinners, the festivals…both here and abroad." He put his hands behind his back, a new habit he'd developed from Gwendal even though he wasn't conscious of it. Wolfram's expression softened a bit when he said, "When they come to you…flirt with you…say things that are ambiguous, allowing you to draw your own conclusions…?" He lifted an eyebrow.

"It's just…stuff. They don't really mean it. Even Günter says so in his lessons," Yuuri defended.

Wolfram thought about it and then countered. "Did it ever occur to you that sometimes Günter leaves things out? Sometimes, you don't get the full story? He can be a bit… delicate…about things like that because you embarrass so easily." Wolfram's mind flashed to the Battle of Flowers. Boy, was Yuuri in for a surprise.

Yuuri shook his head "no." "I'm not as weak as you think…or as naïve. I'm older now and I'm starting to catch on."

The right corner of Wolfram's mouth twitched a smile. "As you say." He tried to speak the words with a straight face. "Anyway, to make a long story short…I asked her to leave the castle."

"You what…?"

"I did."

Yuuri felt a little bit bad about firing the pretty girl on the spot. All she did was offer. "Couldn't you have worked out something else? I mean, wasn't there another way?" he suggested hopefully. Wolfram could be so hard hearted sometimes, so rule governed.

The blond shot him an angry look. "If things were reversed, is that what you would have done with a love confession? Well, is it?"

Yuuri diverted his eyes to the nursery floor. The only overt love confessions he ever got came repeatedly from Wolfram not so long ago—his plans for a wedding, his statements about how they were fiancés and belonged together, his insistence that he should come along on adventures, his demands to sleep in the same bed… These things were easy to ignore because Wolfram always spoke as "We" and never as "I."  
Push away.

Ignore.

Leave it alone.

Let it die from neglect.

He'll get the message…eventually.

Oh, I see… A little fang appeared out of the corner of Wolfram's mouth. Then, he really deserves this…

"Let me show you what it feels like." Gently, he took both of Yuuri's hands in his, circling the back of his right hand with a thumb. Circles…soft, soft circles… Hands warm, intimate touches.

The double black gaped at him. Was Wolfram really doing this?

"Now that they have your attention, they look into your eyes with hope and fear…hope that their dreams will be realized and fear that their love is unrequited and what an ass they'll make of themselves." The bishonen chuckled darkly, a velvet tone. "But it's worth the risk…to be with a king." Wolfram's handsome face hovered near his and Yuuri could feel the room grow hot.

Was it always this warm? Should they open a window?

"Yuuri Heika?" Wolfram said seductively, head tilted slightly to the side. Then, green eyes turned to him…promising a world of pleasure in the liquid depths. All he would have to do is give in…let go. Feel pleasure.

The double black swallowed thickly. "Wolfram…you know I hate being so…formal…" he complained weakly, inexplicably drawn to the blond before him—more beautiful than any girl he'd ever met.

"Ah, but I'm not Wolfram…not right now," he said coyly, looking through long lashes. "I'll do anything for you," he promised, tilting his head just so and ghosting Yuuri's cheek with his breath. He leaned in and was close to Yuuri's ear. He whispered, "I'll be anything for you…" He drew closer and nuzzled the double black's cheek with the apple of his own. "All you have to do is ask…"

Yuuri wasn't sure when it happened, but the hand holding had stopped and he found himself in Wolfram's strong arms.  
When did this… happen?

The blond was slightly taller than he was and the arms were entwined around him possessively—one across his shoulders and one cradling his lower back. Wolfram pressed his face into the curve of Yuuri's neck. "Just say the words…and I'll wait for you."

A brief, soft kiss against his skin.

He took a sharp breath. Yuuri could feel his heart drumming in his chest. And, before he could put another thought together, the double black felt fingers pressing into his shoulders—a force abruptly shoving him backwards.

"Just like that," Wolfram drawled in a disinterested way. "They'll reel you in, suck out all of your intelligence with eros, and climb the social ladder through sexual delights." Wolfram shrugged as he walked to the door of the nursery. "At least, that's been my experience."

He looked over his shoulder to see Yuuri snapping out of it—whatever trance he'd been in.

"Y-Your…experience?" Yuuri stumbled over his words. Did his Wolf really say that?

Wolfram, slightly embarrassed, ran his fingers through his bangs as a diversion. He leaned against the door frame. "It's your life. Do as you wish. Just try to be careful…and discrete. If not, they can really take advantage no matter how 'nice' they seem on the outside." He forced a smile. "That's the best advice I can give you."

The double black felt his heart sinking. Was Wolfram giving him permission to have an affair? It seemed so.

"I can't believe you just…" Yuuri lost everything else he wanted to say. This seemed so unreal. Wasn't Wolfram supposed to be jealous? Wasn't he?

The blond ran his fingers over his lower jaw. He could tell he would be needing a shave soon. "I've grown up a bit…as you can tell from looking at me. And I've come to accept a lot of things."

What?

Yuuri approached him with cautious steps. "But…you…uh…" There was no great way to say it. So, he'd just blurt it out because he needed to know. "I mean…you still like me, huh?" Yes, that was the Japanese way of phrasing it. "Suki?"

Wolfram smiled sadly at him. "I think you're a great guy." Then, he turned for the door. "I'll see you at dinner…okay?" And he was gone with a slight swish of the blond ponytail.  
As Wolfram walked away, he thought, No more confessions. No more dreams. I'm not going to tell you anymore that I want you. I won't say those things. They're useless.

Yuuri stood in the doorway and watched Wolfram go—fingering idly the small spot on his neck Wolfram had kissed.

There was nothing else he could do until the Battle of Flowers. And he was determined to make that party a success. He would do the right things, say the right words, and find a way to bring Wolfram and Zander closer to him.

And it would happen.

It would.

________________________________________

 

Yuuri waited impatiently for Wolfram at the private entrance leading to the Grand Ballroom. Back during the original construction of the castle, The Great Sage suggested that such an entrance be built for the safety and protection of The Maou. Though, in truth, he had it constructed so that he could advise Shinou of what he should do and the order in which to greet people. Social skills were not a strong point of Shinou's and his reputation improved vastly with the sage's last minute tutoring.

Yuuri shifted his weight on his feet. He knew that he'd arrived too early but he couldn't help himself. He wanted to start the evening and get everything back on track as soon as possible. Yuuri even asked Conrad to help him with his suit of clothes, crown, and cape so that Wolfram wouldn't have to be bothered when they next met up.  
"You seem troubled," came from behind and Yuuri looked over his shoulder with a smile.

"You're here!" The smile widened. "That's great."

Wolfram approached wearing his new outfit—a midnight blue shirt with a light charcoal vest and trousers to match. A lighter blue ribbon tied at the nape of the neck held his hair in place. Tonight, the heavy gold locks hung down in thick, well sculpted ringlets.

"You look really good," Yuuri said with a blush dusting his cheeks.

Wolfram seemed surprised at the comment. "Thank you." Then, he stepped up to Yuuri, tugged at the black collar and smoothed the cape on his shoulders. "You look nice, too."  
At that, Yuuri's expression soured a little. "I dunno… I asked Conrad to help me get dressed so that you wouldn't have to do this…I mean, straighten me out and everything, like always."

Wolfram's expression changed to one of understanding. Time for the truth, he thought. What else did he have to lose? "Actually, you looked fine from the start. I think I just do this sort of thing out of habit." He gave a small but genuine smile and said in the formal Mazoku tongue, "I apologize. I shouldn't bother you over something so trivial." Then, he took Yuuri's arm, as was customary, and waited politely for the doors to open and for them to be announced.

Yuuri wanted to smack a hand over his face. He'd already screwed up and the party hadn't even started yet. Obviously, Wolfram's small gestures and little preens were his way of showing affection—probably the only way he was ever allowed to under the circumstances.

The rules. There were rules between them and Yuuri could see, now, that many of them—the ones that really mattered—were created by him and had to be respected by Wolfram.  
He must have been right next to me…but incredibly… alone, Yuuri thought.

What had he done all these years?

He turned to the blond. "Wolf?"

"Yes?" Green eyes blinked at him curiously.

Best to be honest. "I'm not offended by you helping me with my clothes…straightening them out and all…" Wolfram was about to make a comment when Yuuri added, "In fact, I kind of like it when you fuss over me." He shifted on his feet a bit and, during that same motion, gave Wolfram's arm a gentle squeeze.

The bishonen tilted his head to the side and blinked again, still processing what Yuuri had just said.

"And Wolfram…?"

"Yes?"

Yuuri glanced at him and then shyly away. "Thank you."

And, for the first time in many years, Wolfram smiled a true, warm-hearted smile. Seeing it, Yuuri dropped their arms only to take Wolfram's hand and lace fingers with it. "I know tradition says that you're supposed to enter on my arm, but that's not the way I want to do things tonight."

Wolfram's jaw dropped a little, his eyes moving down to their linked hands.

Yuuri chuckled. "And, after all these years, I'm glad I can still surprise you."

The doors opened and an elderly, pot bellied Mazoku called the attention of the assembled crowd and announced, "King Shibuya Yuuri, 27th Maou of the noble Demon Race and his fiancé Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld."

Without prodding, Yuuri confidently stepped forward with Wolfram half of a step behind and still bewildered at the way he was being promenaded. The nobles didn't miss it, either—occasionally whispering behind their fans and behind their hands at the affectionate way Yuuri had brought Wolfram forward. For, at the Battle of Flowers celebrations, this was almost unheard of between a king and a future spouse. Jealousy was usually in the air. And the noble class always enjoyed the drama.

________________________________________

 

White vanilla scented candles burned brightly from the crystal chandelier above and from the ornately designed candelabras in all four corners of the room. Warm flickering light made the shadows of the party-goers shift on the walls—giving the impression that more than five hundred people were inside.

As tradition dictated, the ballroom itself was decorated with gorgeous flowers of all kinds and colors. But, Lady Cheri had made sure that the yellow "Beautiful Wolfram" took prominence in the formal arrangements on the drinks and dessert tables. The huge, sweet-smelling bunches were tied with black and blue silk ribbons—appropriate in her opinion—and silver glitter was sprinkled on the petals.

Yes, the Grand Ballroom was decorated to perfection and, in Yuuri's humble opinion, it smelled like a florist's. Elaborate but fitting, too. He took in the room again. Almost relaxing. With the cool, fresh breeze filtering in from the open doors to the balcony, it felt just right. That was it. And the double black decided not to analyze it any further.  
Wherever Yuuri went, he brought Wolfram with him—hands still linked and getting a tad sweaty. But, no bother. To the bold young girls who approached, and many were quite used to doing so without faux, socially deemed awkwardness, Yuuri kept a bright smile but leaned just so in Wolfram's direction to communicate to them that he was "taken"—that they were a couple. The double black seemed to recall his father doing that to his mother when they'd go out shopping—when the vendors got a bit "too friendly." And, it worked surprisingly well tonight.

Little touches. Little gestures—not unlike Wolfram smoothing out his clothes. These things said a lot. And he could draw on the subtleties of his Japanese culture to let people know where he now stood.

Conrad, shadowing Yuuri for the night as usual, found this interesting. Twice he gave Wolfram a "What's going on?" glance only to get a shallow, bewildered shrug as an answer.  
"Do you want a drink?" Yuuri asked him now that they were alone—or as "alone" as they could be in a room of five hundred. Happily, the girls had moved on to the dessert table with cakes shaped like large flowers. Hopefully, after that, they'd find something else to do.

"A drink?" he said, raising his voice because the din was growing louder. "I can get you one," Wolfram offered, trying to unlace his fingers so that he could fetch something.  
Yuuri leaned against Wolfram's ear and whispered, "Let's do it together."

"Eh?" Wolfram said, jaw dropped and his ponytail swishing. Wolfram's face was turning blood red right to the tips of his ears.

Concerned, Yuuri put a hand to his cheek. "You feeling okay…?" The fire wielder's face had grown hot, too.

Glancing around—embarrassed—Wolfram put a hand to Yuuri's and brought it down from his cheek. "I'm fine," he whispered back in all seriousness, "but what I didn't understand was that other comment." He had to have heard wrong. He just had to.

Yuuri scratched his head. "I just said that we should get our drinks together." A small smirk followed. Was Wolfram nervous? It would be a little bit fun if that was the case.

"Oh, I see." The ex-prince sighed inwardly. Careless words and a clueless Yuuri. Typical, typical, typical. "I'm sorry. I just thought I heard…"

"Heard what?"

The blond shook his head "no." "The room's noisy… Don't worry about it," he said as an excuse and felt relieved when Yuuri accepted it so easily.

"Drinks, then?" Yuuri suggested.

"One glass of wine for you," Wolfram ordered in his usual bossy tones with a hand on his hip.

The double black grinned at that and, with hands still linked, he dragged Wolfram through the throng and in the direction of the long table with the cream laced tablecloth.  
Wolf would get his glass first.

________________________________________

 

"And now, without further ado," Günter announced grandly as he stood in front of the string orchestra with a simple crown made of woven white Shasta daisies sprinkled with silver and black glitter, "Yuuri Heika will choose the next Flower Queen for the Battle of Flowers!"

The crowd of nobles, many tipsy already from the wine, cheered enthusiastically—their voices echoing loudly in the ballroom to almost a roar. Women, young and old alike, stepped forward while the men gathered in the back, looking for more drinks and others gathering in their political and social groups for some "man talk." But, they were also watching with great interest. For, the woman who was chosen would be giving the king's favor to her family by extension. And the men of the noble houses were curious as to which house among them would benefit.

Yuuri, snacking on a modest piece of yellow "flower" cake with Wolfram, stopped in mid bite. This was an inconvenience. Things had been going so well tonight that he didn't want to ruin it. After all, he'd gotten Wolfram's attention in various good ways, managed to get a beautiful smile out of him, and even talked him into meeting later to put Greta and Alexander to bed. For the first time in his life, he felt like a real adult. He felt that he was in control of his life and he liked where he was directing it.

"Heika?" Gunther called, scanning the crowd with narrowed eyes.

Yuuri frowned with disappointment at the task before him.

Wolfram leaned into his ear and whispered, "It's okay. Enjoy yourself. Have fun and try to make sure everyone else does, too."

"But, I don't want to do…" He shook his head.

Wolfram smirked and leaned back in, "Mother says that a party isn't for you. A party is for your guests to be comfortable and to feel appreciated."

That seemed like odd advice coming from a woman who was practically the star turn of every event she ever attended.

Yuuri nodded glumly and walked forward, avoiding people standing around who were waiting for him to make a decision.

Wolfram's smile grew strained as he watched Yuuri weave around Greta and his mother and around Gissela and Anissina as well as others in the assembled crowd. The young Maozoku women who constantly flocked around Yuuri had pushed their way to the front. And even some of the maids made sure that they were near the orchestra. The third maou was very fond of female servants and one had been crowned Flower Queen during his reign. She was made Official Royal Concubine afterwards and never worked a day on her feet after that. Working on her "back" was another matter entirely.

All eyes were on him. Yes, Yuuri would have to choose. Everyone was waiting.

Despite the encouragement, Wolfram, deep down, hated this crowning and the implications. Maybe, he should have told Yuuri everything. He certainly had the chance to more than once. But, until tonight, Yuuri had never actually tried to get along—not in the way Wolfram had always wanted to.

Was it selfish?

Now, guilt was eating at him and he dearly wished he could have Yuuri back for just a moment.

Say the words, tell him everything.

Yuuri took the elaborate daisy crown from Günter and his black eyes sought out Wolfram from among the multitude. The blond didn't seem angry but his eyes were shining in a hard green color.

Of course, he's jealous. He has to be, Yuuri thought. It's just that he's getting better at hiding it or…

There was the possibility that Wolfram just wasn't that "into him" anymore. Mentally, Yuuri shrugged that idea off. It couldn't be and he wouldn't accept it if it were true. He'd win Wolfram back.

Holding the crown now, feeling it in his fingers, made everything clear. He knew that he needed Wolfram just as much as Wolfram needed him.  
Together.

That was the future he wanted.

No, that was the future he'd create.

Yuuri scanned the faces before him. But how to get rid of the crown? He could toss it into the crowd, but the women would definitely fight over it and someone could get injured. He thought about Greta. But the crown was a bit too big. It wouldn't fit her and the rule was "woman" and not a minor who had not yet come of age. Yuuri saw two Mazoku sisters elbowing each other and whispering lowly. To pick one of them would mean making the other angry—for years. Never having a sister, he just could not understand that relationship anyway.

Then, Yuuri remembered Wolfram's final words of advice and he knew, instantly, who had to be crowned queen.

With sure steps, Yuuri weaved his way back among the women, approached Lady Cheri, and placed the crown on her head with a goofy smile.

"WHATs?!" and heavy gasps took over the room. "Scandalous!" was whispered harshly from all points. Women pretended to hide behind their fans and the men gaped—disbelieving what had just happened before their eyes.

For a second, even Lady Cheri simply stared at him in shock before an overly cheerful, "Yuuri Heika! I never thought you'd pick me! It's such a thrill to lead the parade!" came to her and she hugged him in her usual motherly way to her bosom.

Once he was let go, Yuuri glanced at the people around him uncomfortably, hearing whispered words like "It's unbelievable," and "never knew he had such tastes," floated to his ears.

Wolfram, standing with clinched fists at his sides and a heated look which threatened disaster, turned on his heel and stormed out. Once he exited the door, he took off at a run—not sure where he was going and not caring, either.

"I think you'd better go talk to Wolfie and straighten things out," Lady Cheri advised in a soft undertone. "I'll handle everything here." She winked at him and blew a kiss.

Yuuri's eyes darted to the door where Wolfram had just exited. There, he saw Günter standing by with an embarrassed expression on his face. And Wolfram's words returned to him: "Did it ever occur to you that sometimes Günter leaves things out? Sometimes, you don't get the full story? He can be a bit… delicate…about things like that because you embarrass so easily." 

Upset and still having no clue as to what he had done, Yuuri darted out of the ballroom, too, and heard Lady Cheri's voice saying, "It's time to line up for the parade! Everyone! Everyone!" She clapped her hands. "Grab a drink, darlings, and let's go!"

If there was anything that Wolfram's mother was highly skilled at, it was crowd control. And, she'd work on damage control along the way, too, Yuuri was sure.  
Now, that left him free to deal with a fleeing fiancé. But he'd have to run harder if he was going to do it.

 

________________________________________

 

"You're such an ass, Yuuri!"

Wolfram ran as hard as he could but the sound of swift footsteps following him met his ears quickly enough. From the reverberation of the Earth shoes hitting the stone floor, he knew without a doubt that it was Yuuri. And, right now, he was the last person he wanted to see.

This seemed so unfair. He was a soldier. Why couldn't he run faster than this? He was a full demon on top of that. Wouldn't that make him swifter than a half demon? Damn it!  
"Wolf, wait!" Yuuri called after they passed an amused guard outside Gwendal's office.

This seemed like old times.

The guards and servants in the castle had seen this all before. And they knew not to interfere. It was far better, and far safer, to simply step aside for a few moments and allow some measure of privacy.

"Aw…come on, Wolf!"

Now, he was whining.

"No!" the blond gritted as he kept going, not wanting to see Yuuri at all.

"Wolf!" Yuuri shouted, potentially drawing attention that Wolfram definitely didn't want, "Come on! Tell me what just happened. I'm clueless!"

Wolfram stopped at a sharp corner. The candle in the sconce behind him flared brightly for a second and then began to melt in an avalanche of wax. Yuuri stopped and gaped at it before turning back to the furious blond man standing before him.

Thank Shinou he didn't have his sword on him.

"Yuuri, you're clueless on most days!"

Yuuri, irritated at that comment, shot back, "Okay, I know that I did something wrong. People were acting like I did. So, what was it?" He tapped his foot impatiently. "I mean, she loves parties and there was no way you could be jealous of her. I mean, not for real. She's your mom!"

Wolfram wasn't sure where to start or how to say it. With Yuuri's nature, things had to be worded carefully. But, he was so angry that he didn't feel like giving his statement the old "Günter treatment" to pacify the double black.

"You want an answer? Fine! I'll give you an answer." He threw his arms up in the air in exasperation. "By giving my mother the flower crown…"

A guard on patrol passed by quickly, trying to stay out of the argument by practically hugging the wall closest to him. But he almost tripped over his own feet when he heard Wolfram say, "…you just announced to the kingdom that you would gladly bed both me and my mother!"

Yuuri forgot how to breathe and, then, his eyes shot to the astounded guard who was busy making tracks. That statement would be spread all over the castle by sunrise. The double black took Wolfram roughly by the elbow and forced him to keep walking. This place was too public. And, he knew, the blond treasured his privacy even above dignity. Right now, he just wasn't thinking clearly.

Maybe, if they could go back to their bedroom and discuss things there…?

"Yuuri, how could you?" the blond bellowed at him, furious tears pricking at his eyes.

"That was not my intention," Yuuri hissed back as they walked swiftly. "I just wanted to get rid of it."

Wolfram felt his heart hurt. "It's bad enough that I look like her...but the symbolism…the implication, that you'd willingly sleep with her…and me…and my reputation…ours…as fiancés…" He put a hand to his aching head. "…Not anymore though…"

The Ménage à trois or "household of three" gossip would haunt him for life. The idea of the three of them in the same bed—not to mention her public obsession with "free love— His stomach twisted in knots.

Wolfram von Bielefeld, for the first time in his life, wished he could be invisible—just fade into the clouds and disappear. Never return.

He cursed Yuuri for giving him attention tonight—for handing him a small shred of hope that things would change. A close friendship and a peaceful life. Maybe, something more years later as they watched their son grow up— developing a soft spot, an affection, between them. He'd allowed that much hope. Moreover, he cursed himself for being weak enough to let Yuuri get to him once again. How many times did he have to go through this before he would learn?

Wolfram wrenched his arm free from Yuuri's grasp. He'd had enough. "I'm going to check on Alexander," he said. He needed a break from Yuuri and giving himself this distraction would be the best thing. Maybe, he could sit in the chair and rock the baby for the next hour. Calm down.

"You're still upset," Yuuri pointed out. Hell, he was still upset, too. And, most definitely, the baby would pick up on Wolfram's mood and get stressed without understanding it. "I think we should talk a bit more first…think things through. Discuss this."

Wolfram shot him a murderous look. "I think you're a horse's ass" and he turned right down the next hall. "And don't you even think you can stop me. You can't."

________________________________________

 

In the rocking chair, the night nanny was holding Alexander and humming a soft, sweet tune. Outside the door the servants were bustling their way to and fro. There was so much to do and, with the Battle of Flowers celebrations taking place on the castle grounds and in the Grand Ballroom itself, there was no shortage of selfish lords and ladies demanding special attention.

"I'm glad we're in here, little one. It's too busy out there." She thumbed at the closed door.

Zander looked up into sky blue eyes and gurgled, rubbing his nose with a tight fist.

"Sleepy, huh?"

"Bah…bah…." Which came out as a sigh as the yellow blanket was nestled under his chin.

"I bet you are," she said and held the baby closer, rocking him.

The Night Nanny took Zander over to the ornate, dark brown Earth crib with the attached zoo animal mobile that Yuuri had brought over in five separate trips—wrapping the individual pieces in garbage bags. Of course, once the servants saw the ornate "bassinet" as they thought of it, word got around. Eventually, every noble house in Shin Makoku insisted that Günter provide drawings so that their artisans could make them, too. And, within two months, it was the "in thing" to have.

Whoa-" A faint voice could be heard.

Outside the window, there seemed to be some commotion. There were brief "oofs" and, finally, the sound of a long piece of metal clattering to the stone walkway.

"Hmm?"

The sounds of a scuffle continued out the window and, as it was opened, a startled pigeon flew past—making the nanny step backwards. "Was someone fighting down there?" She tilted her head at different angles, trying to see what was going on below. Were a couple of nobles drunk already and having a brawl under their balcony window? She hoped not, for a duel might follow—ruining this night's fun for everyone.

Some thing flew in. She stood back.

A small, sharp grappling hook latched itself onto the windowsill, chipping off white paint as it cut into the wood.

The rope tugged twice.

"What the…?"

The rope tightened and stretched as someone climbed up it and a rat-like face peered in. "Heh, heh." The laugh was the wheeze of a lifelong smoker. He reeked of tobacco and body odor as he scrambled his short, thin body into the room. His work shirt and trousers were too big for him—"borrowed" for the occasion—and he had what appeared to be a rough potato sack looped through his leather belt.

Blue eyes widened. "Get out of here, you!" She tried to make him scat by waving a lace-edged handkerchief at him.

Through greasy brown bangs, the rat glanced in the direction of the crib and seemed more than delighted with what he found. "Good! He's here…just like that blondie woman said in the pub." And he made tracks for the sleeping infant.

"Oi!" The nanny's voice dropped several octaves. "I just told you to get out of here. If you don't want to be thrown out of that window…" Biceps flexed menacingly.  
The rat's jaw dropped. "You're not an overgrown woman! You're a…man!"

Yozak raised an eyebrow at that. "Well, you'll never get the chance to find out for sure, will you?" He made a fist and was about to connect it with an unshaven jaw when a white, grainy cloud flew into his face.

"Pepper powder!" Yozak choked as he wiped his eyes furiously. He knew that it would be no good. He'd used the stuff many times himself to get away and still keep his cover as a spy.

Worse yet, this time, he'd inhaled the stuff.

Choking, Yozak still managed to make a fist and swing it at the rat. Apparently, the thin little man had gotten some of it on himself as well and his nose was running down to the curve of his chin. But, the fist didn't connect and Yozak's eyes were burning, watering—giving him a warped, wet view.

A kick to his chest sent Yozak reeling backwards. It wasn't powerful, just enough to set him off balance. Using a favorite fighting stance, he kept himself from falling.  
"Stupid shit!" the rat shouted and made blurred throwing motions.

Yozak could feel the cruel stab of three small knives penetrating his skin—shoulder, upper arm, and thigh. Crimson dripped down his silk skirt, ruining it forever.  
What he would give to have his sword right now. But, in taking the job Gwendal ordered, he had to promise to leave his sword in his quarters or risk having his cover blown. After all, what nanny keeps a sword in a nursery?

Yozak took in a hard breath and started coughing again—the powder still not out of his lungs. He changed his stance to a more comfortable fighting stance with fists raised, but the skirt wasn't as giving and tightened against his hips. Add to the fact, blood was dripping down with numbness beginning to set in, but Yozak knew better than to pull the small knives out. Not long ago, he'd seen one of the sailors on the docks get into a scuffle, get stabbed, and then the fool removed a knife in the most macho way possible—only to suddenly bleed out before help could arrive.

A glint of silver.

Not again!

Yozak dodged.

A thud beside his head.

Yozak slipped on the bloody floor and lost his footing. This time, his shoulder hit the door hard, rattling it, only to hear, "What the Hell?" from the other side in Wolfram's voice. Worse yet, he could make out the tone of Yuuri's voice but not the exact words.

"Damn! They must have had another fight," Yozak wheezed to himself, lungs aching to cough again. He could tell from his long experience with overhearing Yuuri and Wolfram's tones—the way they spoke to each other—that they were upset. And "annoyed" was nothing compared to "truly angry." Yozak cursed silently when he heard more bickering on the other side.

A small key rattled uselessly in the door.

"Oi!" Thump. Thump. Thump. "Yozak, open up!" Wolfram called in a pitch that betrayed his deep concerns. "You've bolted the interior lock!"

Yozak turned his eyes to the door and that was all it took.

"Lookie…lookie…What do we have here?" the rat crooned. Zander—and a very wide awake baby he was now, too—was now pressed against his hip. There was a knife twirling in between the rat's fingers. "I'd say, Miss Mister," he joked, "that you'd better back out the door or something…bad…may happen. And make those assholes leave while you're at it."  
With a smirk, the rat brushed his knife wielding hand against the potato sack.

He probably intends to put Alexander in it for when he climbs down.

Yozak glanced to the door again when he felt a decidedly hard thump. Wolfram was trying to break through and, being a fire wielder, it wouldn't take him long to decide to burn the door down. But the black smoke could hurt the baby, and he couldn't predict what the rat would do if cornered. Yozak had witnessed too many gruesome scenes in his life. 

He didn't want to add to them.

No choice! The spy made a grab for the small knife embedded in the door frame. Apparently, the rat had tried to land that last one into his skull. It was a lucky thing that he was only a moderately skillful knife thrower.

"Together, then!" came from the other side of the door.

Thump! The old wood door cracked, but held firm.

"Damn!" Yozak narrowed his eyes.

The baby, startled, threw back his head and began to cry.

Thump! More cracking, wood frame moaning.

The crying became a wail for Papa that could easily penetrate the door and echo down the hall.

"Again!" Wolfram demanded and a tremendous "Thwack!" followed. Yozak only managed to step aside before the splintered door burst free, heavy remnants smacking into the wall and smaller pieces blowing about the room.

And, appearing in the doorway, Wolfram and Yuuri stood—fearing the worst.

Too bad that they were right.

 

________________________________________

 

By now, Zander was screaming his head off—face spotted with red as he was being held roughly against the rat man's hip. The small knife flashed silver.

Wolfram turned to Yozak and said between clinched teeth, "Call the guard!" With a reluctant look, Yozak left the room as quickly as he wounds would allow, leaving a blood trail on the pepper-powdered floor. He knew the security on this floor. It would be an easy task to find well-armed guards to help.

Wolfram's eyes moved to Yuuri. "Get Conrad!" Yes, that would take Yuuri out of the danger zone, too, so that he could fight the way he needed to.

The double black shook his head. "I won't leave you two alone with him," he shouted over the sound of his son's cries. Yuuri could feel The Maou spirit within him rising. His son. No, their son was being threatened with a jagged knife to his middle. The wail was getting louder and louder every minute and, then, a zap.

Alexander's form sparked—like static electricity in the dark. And, even in the dim light from the single candle burning on the table, the little sparks clearly flew. The rat man could barely keep hold of him. Cursing loudly, he almost dropped the child twice.

"Give back the child!"

Wolfram's green eyes grew wild. And the rat man could see death in them. The blond's body smoked and flames appeared behind him as he stepped confidently into the room. His hair broke free of the blue silk ribbon holding it and blond hair cascaded down his shoulder. Small wisps of hair rode on the tides of hot air billowing up.  
With a sharp turn, Wolfram looked to Yuuri who was now standing at his elbow—struggling to contain The Maou spirit who saw justice in killing the threat to his baby son. A blue swirl of clouds was beginning to form and Yuuri found himself breathing hard, trying to keep control.

Wolfram, fists at his sides, "Remember when you once told me 'I'll stay with you…until the end.' Remember that, Yuuri?" He said the words with tears in his eyes—hot and threatening to fall.

Surprised, Yuuri looked up at him and nodded, not understanding. "Yes," he said, his tone just as angry as Wolfram's and his eyes darted to the rat.

"I want you to know…I loved you for that."

Yuuri turned to him again, confused. "I don't see how…"

The fires around Wolfram grew hotter and brighter. "This is the end, Yuuri." And, with that, Wolfram took him by the arm in an expert move he knew Yuuri had no way of countering and tumbled him back roughly through the doorway. Wolfram reached for the remnants of what was once a door, hauled it in place and shot a blast of fire at the metal lock—essentially melting it in place with a single touch while Yuuri bellowed his protests from where he was sprawled out on the floor.

Wolfram turned back to the rat. "You will put him down! Put my child down now." The blond was beyond angry. He had only a thin layer of reason left to him and parental instincts had taken over.

Nothing existed but now.

Nothing will ever exist.

This man, no matter what Yuuri wanted, was going to die.

Wolfram, God of Hell's Flames, had made his command.

The rat edged closer to the open window. "Yours? He was supposed to be ours! He's Xahan… our god of retribution…to defend the human race." The rat glanced at the baby, still threatening the white-haired child with his knife. "But, you screwed it up!" He pointed the knife in an accusing way at Wolfram. "And, now, instead of a grown up, I've got a baby to deal with." He glared at the child with distaste, remembering the many pregnant girlfriends he abandoned in his youth. Never did he see himself as a father. "But, don't worry…heh, heh, heh…"

He managed to laugh even though Wolfram was approaching, threatening with black smoke and tongues of flame licking off of his body. A fire lion formed at his side and Wolfram's green eyes returned to him, feral.

"Oi, look!" The rat threatened, "You'd better stand back because I might get nervous and something just terrible might happen…"

But Wolfram didn't. He kept walking slowly. "I don't think you'd come all this way to kidnap a child…a very powerful child…only to kill him before my eyes," he said over the baby's wails.

"Powerful," the rat grinned, showing his yellow teeth. "That's good… There's rumors in the village…"

And the baby zapped him again. This time, the rat did let go. But, the baby's hands were spread out and he formed a sphere around himself. The white energy ball bounced with him inside of it and Wolfram's fire lion nudged the sphere into to the adjoining bathroom. There, the fiery beast would guard the doorway.

Wolfram's fires brightened, light bouncing off of the nursery walls with a growing intensity.

"Now, it's just…us…" Wolfram grinned a devil's grin.

"Now…wait…" the rat jabbered, more than worried. He glanced at the open window with the rope still attached to it. It was a long way down and he doubted that he'd get down the rope without Wolfram setting him and the rope on fire.

"That's it!" He pointed a bony finger. "King Yuuri likes mercy…mercy to the criminals…" He gave a smug grin. "Nobody's died yet… I'll just turn myself in and throw myself on the mercy of the court… And there's nothing you can do about it." He pointed a bony finger.

Wolfram shook his head "no." "You break into my home…into my child's bedroom… You tried to kidnap him and then tried to kill him…"

Through the open doorway, Wolfram could make out Alexander's wail subsiding and the word "maou" being called over and over again. So, he can say it, Wolfram thought distractedly but with the anger at the rat still pulling at him.

A rain of knocks battered the door to the room. Black eyes were peeking in through the largest hole in the door.

"See?" the rat said. "Show mercy…open the door! I've given myself up." He raised his hands in submission while his eyes darted to the open window again.

Black eyes left and brown replaced them.

"Wolfram!?" Conrad shouted followed by Yuuri's voice in the background. A muffled. "We're going to break the door down. Stand back!"

And it was just enough for the rat to take his knife and throw it.

It hit dead on into Wolfram's chest near the collarbone. Wolfram screamed in agony and his legs wanted to crumble beneath him. The fires around him went out.

The rat stepped forward, crooked smile widening. "Sorry, fool. It was a lovely party, but I've got to go now…on my own. Your people killed all of mine. So, I'll just be heading off …with the child." He wheezed a laugh. "My new baby boy." He'd come too far and risked too much to give up now—not when he was this close to succeeding. He reached for another knife inside his pocket to deal with Wolfram. Maybe, he'd slit the pretty man's throat while he was bent over in pain.

Yuuri could see everything through the hole. "Wolf!" Yuuri begged, "Please, open the door or burn it down! Please!"

A smile with yellowed, twisted teeth.

It filled Wolfram's vision.

That and nothing more as the rat made his way forward.

"Take my child?" Wolfram spat angrily as he straightened himself upright. "Oh, I don't think you'll have the chance." He grinned back like a maniac—too wide, too jovial—astonishing the rat. Laughing darkly, a ring of red and gold fire formed around him—hovering, spinning. Wolfram fisted the blade in his chest and pulled it out without wincing. He was bleeding profusely down the front of his clothes but didn't care, didn't feel it.

The fire increased in intensity—Wolfram's face illuminated, hair billowing up. The bloody knife was still fisted in his hand.

"I'll see you in Hell…but you'll go first!"

Fire ripped the room apart.

There were two massive explosions. The first sent an enormous plume of fire out the open window to the nursery. People down below were astonished and the guards who saw it immediately took arms and charged into the castle. The second and less powerful explosion knocked the heavy bedroom door down from its thick hinges and only the quick thinking of Conrad kept Yuuri from being crushed beneath it.

Zander continued to wail from where he was in the other room. And, for that, Yuuri was grateful—being able to find his son even though the nursery was black with thick smoke.

Yes, having the baby back alive and unharmed, was, indeed, a blessing. But it was one of the few.


	5. Chapter 5

.

Final Chapter  
.  
.  
FIVE WEEKS LATER  
.  
.  
In his office, Yuuri rubbed his tired eyes. He'd signed so many documents that his vision was starting to blur. He'd had extra expenses to pay to scrub and thoroughly cleanse Zander's old nursery. The new one was now directly across the hall from his bedroom, and he had security outside the door and one guard permanently stationed directly below the balcony. So, this situation would be much better for his child's safety both now and in the future.

Sitting across from Yuuri was a blond with a sour look on his face. "I can't believe you've stopped this soon. All you have to do is read and sign. That's not difficult…is it?"  
Yuuri narrowed his eyes at Wolfram and the image of the blond faded.

"Wolfram," Yuuri said sadly. "I just…"

His heart started beating harder. He thought he'd done this enough times and gotten over it. Apparently…not.

Yuuri tossed his ink pen onto the desk and simply walked out. He passed Günter and Gwendal without greeting or apology for ending sooner than expected. But, by the look on his face, they seemed to know and understand.

The walk seemed to take longer than usual. But things often did these days.

A pretty blue haired maid passed by with a bucket in one hand and mop in the other. Yuuri glanced out of curiosity. Did he know her?

No. Another newbie.

As Yuuri continued down the hallway, he glanced to the side. Wolfram was next to him. "Cheater."

Yuuri shook his head. "Not a cheater."

"You looked! I saw you." There was that indignant expression followed by a "humph" to follow-up his point.

Yuuri smiled sadly. "I think you know I'm not a cheater. You just don't want to be forgotten or left behind. Deep down, I think some part of you really cares for me." Yuuri's shoulders rounded a bit more, eyes filling with tears.

The blond turned back to him. "It took you long enough to figure that out." Wolfram smiled and then faded into the next step—disappearing entirely.

The double black wiped his eyes against his sleeve.

"Let's go, baby!" Grandma Kate walked past him carrying the baby in one arm and a basket of toys in the other. They were going outside to play for awhile.

Yuuri stopped and turned. "Make sure he wears that sunscreen," he called after her.

"It stinks!" the woman joked back.

"Good!"

Down the hallway, Yuuri could hear Zander call, "Maou! Maou! Maou!"

He grimaced with his hand on the door to the bedroom. "That's 'Daddy' to you."

"Maou!"

He sighed, "Yeah, we gotta work on it."

He opened the door and entered, feeling defeated. His life felt impossibly hard. Then, he glanced at the bed and noted a certain blond lying in it. He was reading a small, gold edged book with a red cover.

"Hi, Wolfram," Yuuri said quietly, on the verge of tears again. "I…uh…"

Without a word, Wolfram tossed the book aside. He shoved the covers back roughly and struggled to get out of bed. His body refused to move well and he walked stiffly to Yuuri, bandaged hands covering the double black's cheeks when he got close enough. "What happened?" he asked quietly, as though he didn't know.

Directly after the incident, Yuuri had found him, dragged his body into the hallway with Conrad's help, and stayed by his side—refusing to say or do anything other than will The Maou spirit to aid him. Wolfram's hair, torso, and arms were badly burned, melted in places, and raw in other places where the skin was dropping off. On the cold floor, he was lying peacefully on his right side, eyes closed. Yuuri, now in his Maou form, healed Wolfram to the best of his ability until Gissela approached him and told him that she could take over now.

The rat's body had been burned to ash. Only charred bones remained and they were later buried in an unmarked grave.

Green eyes opening for the first time made Yuuri happier than he had ever been in his entire life. In the days which followed, Yuuri felt compelled to stay next to Wolfram—watching him heal, which felt like a series of accomplishments. Often, they'd simply sit and chat about the things that were going on in the castle or with Greta over a game of Double Dragon—giving the card game better memories for both of them. And Yuuri did anything he could to win a smile. But, privately, his regrets seemed to shadow him. And that worried Wolfram as the weeks passed and he was finally allowed to leave the infirmary.

Yuuri looked at Wolfram. The bandaged hands had moved from his cheeks to his shoulders, offering support. But, wasn't that his job?

"Wolf, you shouldn't be out of bed."

The blond wrapped Yuuri in his arms very softly, trying to hug the double black without wincing. "If I can get up to go to the privy, I can get up to hug you."

Yuuri chuckled, reaching up to rub Wolfram's obscenely short blond hair. It curled away from his fingers and patches of it prickled, starting to grow back. "I'm sorry about your hair."

Wolfram hugged Yuuri a little tighter. "Somehow, I don't think it's my hair that's worried you." He asked, "Did someone bother you today? Cause problems?" Then, he pressed close to Yuuri's ear and whispered, "You know, I'm the only one allowed to do that."

A small joke. Wolfram was getting better at them.

Yuuri chuckled and enjoyed the attention. "No, it's just that…I keep thinking about what my life would be like without you in it." Tearing up again, he wanted so badly to hold Wolfram tighter, but couldn't. His body was still too tender. "It's just that…I felt…"

"I understand," Wolfram soothed. "But Gissela says I'll make a full recovery…with some scars…thanks to you and your healing magic, I'll be okay. So, you'll have me around for centuries to come." There was a reassuring smile in his voice.

Yuuri nodded but still seemed to struggle with something. "It's just that I…" Now that he was here, in this moment, he knew he could say it because it was the perfect time. After all of the flashes of memory he just had of Wolfram and all of the conversations in his head over stuff that was important, he could do this.

Yuuri let go and took a step back. "Wolfram, I wanted to tell you that...that I lo-".

Sunny gold met his eyes. Yuuri blinked curiously at it. "This is…?"

Wolfram handed Yuuri an 18 cm stretch of braided bond hair with tightly tied blue ribbons at both ends keeping the braid in place. "It was all we could salvage of the hair I lost after the incident." He glanced away for a second and added, "I knew you liked it…and I wanted you to have something of mine…as a gift of gratitude."  
Reverently, Yuuri took the braid in his hands. It still reeked of smoke but the shine and luster were still there.

"I thought…possibly…If you were willing to…" How best to put this without pressuring Yuuri? "I'd like to be friends…good friends. Do you think we can do that?"  
Yuuri held the braid close to his heart but his eyes gave the bishonen a narrow stare. The blond was changing things…taking a symbol from Shin Makoku's culture and reshaping it to fit Yuuri's tastes.

He shook his head. "I can't do that…keep living and hiding behind the word 'friends.'"

Wolfram's expression was, "Oh!" Maybe, Yuuri had changed his mind about being friends and starting over. It would be painful if he did, but Wolfram had told himself that he would respect it if Yuuri declined his offer. After all, who could he blame but himself? He was the one to walk away from the engagement and the bizarre friendship that they'd built. He kept pushing Yuuri away since Alexander's birth. And he'd killed the rat who threatened their son. But, still, he did kill. And Yuuri hated killing.

He looked sadly into jet black eyes.

Then again, it wasn't as though the rejection didn't sting.

It did.

"I don't know what we are together," Yuuri explained as he took Wolfram's hand and laced fingers with it, "but we're not friends…" He smiled cutely as he turned back the covers and tucked a very surprised Wolfram in. "We're deeper than that, I think. And I don't want to start at the beginning when I've been there too long." He circled the bed, kicked off his shoes, and got in fully dressed. "I want to keep going forward…with you."

Wolfram smiled with genuine relief and felt one of the bandages on his cheek tightening as his expression turned into a grin. He placed a hand on it only to feel Yuuri take the hand away.

"Can we be together?" he asked, shyly holding Wolfram's hand.

"Try and stop me," Wolfram chuckled.

He could have held out longer—made Yuuri sweat a little. But, after the way the double black had entered their bedroom, on the verge of tears, he didn't think keeping Yuuri off balance would be a good thing. In a way, his bedmate was healing just as much as he was. But, now, they were on this journey together, and Wolfram would see to it that Yuuri made it through—because love was like that.

"Yuuri?"

Wolfram leaned forward, terribly close to Yuuri's lips.

"Yes?" the double black said, agreeing in his heart to submit to the request of a kiss. They were together now. It was only natural…a desire like that. He wouldn't wimp out now even if he wasn't an expert. He held the braided lock and thought, Just close my eyes and go with the feeling. He tilted his head to the side, leaned in and…

Patting the pillow, Wolfram said, "Put your head here. Let's take a nap."

"Wha-?" What about the kiss? I was getting ready for it!

He actually puckered!

Green eyes grew impatient. "Well?"

"I…uh…"

"And don't pout about it."

"That's a pucker not a pout."

"Whatever." He patted the pillow again.

Without embarrassment or argument, Yuuri did it—which made them both happy. Lying close and sharing the same pillow, they drifted off to sleep together. Yuuri's last thoughts were about the scent of sunflowers and that Wolfram smelled like sunshine. What a lucky guy he was. Tomorrow, though, he'd try for a kiss. He'd see if Wolfram would let him.  
Wolfram, with a sleepy smile, gently draped an arm over Yuuri's waist—content. It had been so long since he felt that.

Little did they know that in the courtyard:

"Stop the baby!"

"What?"

"He's done it again!"

"What idiot let him near the fountain?"

"I've never seen a wave that big!

"He's surfing for the back garden!"

"Baby! Baby, please stop!"

"MAOU! MAOU! MAOU!"  
.  
.  
-The End-


End file.
